


The Lesser Evil

by tiniestawoo



Series: In a meadow starred with flowers [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Character Development, Complicated Relationships, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Helpful Derek Hale, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Moral Dilemmas, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Public Display of Affection, Redemption, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Siren Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Werewolf Theo Raeken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is a siren. He's got the power to control people, to bend them to his will and hehatesit. He never asked for this power, it was just given to him by some stupid chaos demon and now he's got to learn to live with it.And somehow, Theo Raeken is supposed to be the answer to all of his problems.--Or, the one where Stiles is a siren, the pack tries and fails to cope with it, and apparently the only person who seems to know what's going on in Stiles' head is Theo.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Series: In a meadow starred with flowers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746553
Comments: 37
Kudos: 276





	1. Anchored

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome back to _In a meadow starred with flowers!_
> 
> Part 2: The Lesser Evil.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> If you haven't read Evil Has a Name, please go back and do that first, or you're likely to be confused! It's possible to read this without going back, but things will be much, much clearer. 
> 
> Again, if it isn't mentioned in EHAN, it happened like canon. The canon-compliance ends truly at the end of 3b, but is completely over at the end of 5b, so this is effectively an alternative season 6. 
> 
> Some warnings getting started:
> 
> Dubious consent/mind control - Stiles is a siren, he has the ability to control people, and does use it in this fic. We'll make sure to note any specifically triggering uses of it in the end notes of any chapter going forward, but this first one is pretty mild.
> 
> Thanks to Meri/impractical_matters for the beta!

As much as Stiles desperately wanted to be angry at Derek for leaving them to fend for themselves against mad men in space suits and a centuries-old shapeshifter, he was amazed by the fact that he had left so him and Peter could find out what exactly was happening to Stiles. It was a kind of dedication and care that Stiles hadn’t expected out of the former alpha. 

Sure, the elder Hales had also visited Cora, but primarily, they’d been in Europe tracing Stiles’ genealogical history back to find if there was anything magical in his bloodline that might explain the powers he was displaying. (Where they had gotten a sample of his DNA to begin this process, Stiles didn’t want to know.)

Being born werewolves, they had a respect for the power of DNA and lineage, so while Stiles had been grasping at straws with his occasional 4am google searches of ‘controls with voice’ and ‘touch hypnosis,’ they’d taken a different, more direct route. 

As much as Peter put everyone on edge, it was clear that he’d been critical in this endeavor. Between Derek’s first hand experience with what Stiles could do, Peter’s general knowledge of mythology and magic, and their combined bank accounts, they’d found the answer centuries back in Stiles’ family tree.  
  
He was a sixth generation siren on his mother’s side. Somewhere along the way, his mother’s ancestor, who was a full-born siren, had fled from Greece to Poland to avoid persecution. The miniscule amount of siren DNA in his genetic makeup meant that the thrall should never have been able to manifest, but clearly the Nogitsune had changed that. 

Stiles still wasn’t really sure he understood the vision of some demonic spirit manipulating a strand of his DNA (“DNA forms chromosomes in humans, Stiles. They’re like little pellets, not strings.” “Someone’s been doing their AP Biology reading, huh Scott?”), but it was clear that Void had found this power in his body and magnified it.

Aside from the vocal and tactile thrall that he’d been using intentionally or not, on various members of the pack, the run-in with the Beast had proven that Stiles was much more durable than he’d previously been. 

A not-so-tiny part of him had wished he hadn’t healed, aching for the connection to Allison, bleeding out from the stomach seconds after saving their friend from certain death. But, by the time they’d cleaned up the section of the tunnels, Stiles could walk again; and by the time they’d returned to Derek’s loft to regroup, the only evidence that anything had even happened was the drying blood on his shirt.

Stiles was a new kind of dangerous, even for Beacon Hills. Now, with the Dread Doctors gone, the Beast dead, and the surviving chimeras under their own power, he was undeniably the biggest threat around. 

Sirens were depicted in the media as bloodthirsty, seductive, controlling creatures, capable of influencing the mind of anyone. They were hard to resist and even harder to kill, requiring precise weapons and the blood of someone they’d used their thrall on. The original Greek myths depicted them as bird-women who lured sailors to their deaths with their song. They stole, seduced and killed without discrimination to fill an aching need to sustain themselves.

Stiles knew there was only one instance where he’d actually used his thrall to kill, and as sick as it made him to remember it, killing the Chemist had sent a thrill through Stiles that had never been matched. Control over someone like Liam, a strong, moon-driven new wolf, had been a close second in terms of the energy boost it gave Stiles after the fact, but that had been hours of simple hypnosis compared to a single order. 

He didn’t bother feeling bad about getting McCall out of the way, or controlling Brunski and getting himself and Lydia out of Eichen House. Even knocking Scott out of his rage with Peter and extracting Mason from the Beast fell into the ‘acceptable uses’ category.

What _was_ unacceptable was what he’d done to Derek and Lydia. With Derek he could rationalize what had happened; at the time he’d had no real notion or control over what was happening, and really, cuddling on the couch didn’t even rank in terms of consent violations for Derek. 

Nothing, though, made him as sick as remembering what happened in his father’s office with Lydia. 

That, Stiles recognized, was him at his most dangerous. He’d been half-awake, still coming to full awareness, thinking (seemingly) harmless thoughts about how wonderful Lydia Martin was and how nice it would be to always be woken by her. Somehow, with the smallest brush of their skin, those wandering subconscious thoughts had translated to desire. Desire that had led to Lydia kissing him against her own will.

That was the line Stiles wouldn’t allow himself to cross again. Derek had been used and hurt by too many people; Kate (fucking twice), Scott and Gerard, then Jennifer. Stiles refused to add himself to that category, refused to be another person to take Derek’s agency from him. He’d already crossed the line with Lydia. In that moment, with her lips against his, years of dreams had come true, but it was tainted because it wasn’t of her own free will and he knew it couldn’t happen again. He either had to get himself under control, make sure he wasn’t a threat to the people he cared about, or he had to keep his distance. 

With the Nogitsune, he’d been the worst kind of monster, fueled by a desire for pain and strife and chaos. The need inside him, the ache that drove sirens to control others, to seduce and kill, was painfully similar to the Nogitsune. It would be so easy for Stiles to tip over that edge, to give in and cause just as much harm as the Nogitsune had. 

The answer, when it occurred to him, late at night, seemed so obvious that Stiles had laughed out loud. 

An anchor. He needed to find the Siren equivalent of an anchor.

\--

Stiles _almost_ forgot that there was actually one more problem left in Beacon Hills. 

In all of the confusion with his identity, and the materials that Derek and Peter had brought back for him, he’d been distracted enough that for a few blessed days, he’d actually forgotten that Theo Raeken existed. He would have been happy to continue living in that fantasy world for say, forever, but that came crashing down with a text from Scott proclaiming a pack meeting to deal with the ‘Theo Problem’ at his house that night at eight.

In recent months, pack meetings had grown quite a bit. And, as with any rapidly expanding group of people, there was a mesh of tempers. During this particular pack meeting, the first since Derek and Peter had returned, the tension in the air in the McCall living room could probably have been cut with a dull knife. 

Peter stood against the back wall, lounging with a bored expression. Derek, whose loyalties were clearly torn, stood between the rest of the pack and Peter, behind the couch where Melissa, Lydia, and Malia were sitting.

The youngest pack members sat on the floor. Corey had been particularly unwilling to let Mason out of his sight after everything with the Beast. Liam and Hayden were similarly attached at the hip. Scott had pulled some of the kitchen chairs into the living room, and he’d taken one, leaving the other two empty for Stiles and Noah. Stiles made a mental note that Deaton was absent, and wondered if that was by accident or by design. The tension in the air only increased, however, when Chris Argent arrived with their problem child.

Theo was restrained by some kind of heavy-duty cuffs that Stiles would have bet were custom made to restrain werewolves. Given the intricacies of how Theo had come to be a werewolf, typical methods of restraint, such as wolfsbane, and more importantly mountain ash, were ineffective. Chris’ face was a mask, as usual, but even he couldn’t help but flick a concerned eye in Stiles’ direction. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone.” Scott said, pressing his lips into a small smile. “I know a lot has happened lately. The good news is that we got Mason back.” Scott nodded towards the young man, “And the Dread Doctors are gone. That, unfortunately, leaves one problem.” In really amusing synchrony, the entire room turned to look at Theo. 

Theo, to his credit, had been making the same smug expression since he walked into the room, and it was really taking everything in Stiles not to smack it off his face. 

“I’m your problem?” He laughed incredulously, looking deliberately at Stiles, “I think you have more dangerous things than _me_ to deal with right now.” 

Stiles cocked his head to the side, glanced at Scott for just a moment before he turned back to Theo. Focusing on the need in his chest, he considered his wording. 

“ **Shut up unless someone asks you a question**.” Theo’s smug look fell off his face, replaced by a dispassionate mask, though his too-knowing gaze stayed fixed on Stiles.

Chris muttered something under his breath, Peter’s bored expression grew gleeful, and Noah turned to Stiles with a quirked eyebrow. Stiles gave his dad a small nod. The others, Stiles suspected, could probably feel the thrall when it was used, but his dad was immune to it. 

“Anyway.” Scott continued, ignoring the elephant in the room.

“No, not ‘anyway,’ Scott.” Chris said, eyes on Stiles, “We need to discuss Stiles.”

“Stiles is right here.” Stiles said, rolling his eyes at the hunter.

Chris clearly didn’t appreciate Stiles’ humor, because he continued: “Theo isn’t wrong; Stiles you’re dangerous, and the others deserve to know what they’re up against.”

“I’m not an enemy.” Stiles said, exploding out of his seat, “I’m not…” His eyes fell to Lydia, who quickly looked away, expression tight. The fight left him and he fell back to his chair. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“Not intentionally.” Derek said softly, and Stiles physically winced, eyes falling closed.

His father’s warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Stiles leaned into the touch. He was thankful that despite all that he had lost, he hadn’t lost his dad. Noah had taken the whole thing much better than the last time Stiles had sprung an improbable revelation on him; though he supposed he had werewolves, banshees, chimeras and any number of creatures to thank for that.

“Mr. Argent, can you tell us what you know?” Scott asked with a tight smile.

“Stiles can control people with his voice and touch, and it’s very difficult to resist. He’s also incredibly difficult to kill, and will heal from just about any wound unless you know exactly how to kill him. Sirens typically can’t use their thrall on family members, so the Sheriff is the only one in this room who’s truly safe with him. Stiles could be incredibly dangerous.”

Stiles looked around the room slowly, gauging the pack’s reaction, and then met Chris’ gaze, “I’m working on controlling it.” He turned to Scott, who was quietly watching the whole thing unfold. “I’m not dangerous to the pack, I swear. Maybe I shouldn’t have used it on Theo just now but…” Stiles clenched his fist, feeling the urge build up with his emotions. 

“But he needs to use it regularly in order to keep it from getting out of control.” Peter said, and it was the first time in a very long time that Stiles had felt _thankful_ for Peter Hale. “Remember the hecatolite at the bank? The wolves, when their shift was restricted for an extended period, lost control. That’s Stiles when he abstains from using his thrall. It says something that the only person who is dead probably deserved it.” 

Stiles looked up to give a thankful nod towards the elder Hale. “I know the last nine months have been rough; I know I’ve been a little unstable recently and I’ve used it when I didn’t mean to.” His fists clenched and he was careful to keep his tone even. “I just need time.”

“All of us have made mistakes.” Scott said, turning to Stiles with an understanding smile. “Especially those of us who went through a species change.” He looked around the room, the bitten werewolves, Malia all nodding. “Dangerous or not, he’s still Stiles. So, thank you Mr. Argent for the information and your concern, but it changes nothing; and that’s not the reason we’re here. Given his powers and his history, we can’t just let Theo go; he’s too dangerous. The skinwalkers gave Kira an option of locking him underground in a supernatural prison.” Scott looked sad for a moment, “Kira’s gone, but Noshiko said she could still do it if we needed.” 

“We could just kill him.” Malia said, glaring openly at Theo. 

The Sheriff shot her an exasperated look, “Really? All I ask for is a little plausible deniability, guys.”

Scott shook his head emphatically. “We’re not killing him.”

“Why not? He killed plenty of others.” Hayden’s distaste for Theo was blatant and obvious, eyes burning beta gold as she glared at him across the room. 

“He also brought us back.” Corey said softly, eyes on the ground. The room fell silent and he looked up, eyes panicked, “I mean, I still hate him as much as the rest of you but…” 

“But what, Corey?” Scott asked. 

“He just wanted a pack.” The invisibility-shifter said, meeting the Alpha’s eyes. “Isn’t that what we all want? A place to belong.”

“We don’t usually kill our way to the top to get there.” Stiles muttered, leaning back against his chair, foot bouncing.

“And he still has his stolen abilities.” Lydia said from the opposite couch, flicking a wary glance at Theo.

“What if you bit him?” Hayden asked, looking up at Scott. “I’m not a chimera anymore. Maybe that would erase what he stole from Tracy and Josh?” 

Scott smiled brightly at his beta, “Probably, right?” He turned to the Hales.Derek shrugged but nodded, “It makes sense. The bite corrects any ‘malfunctions’ it finds, so any modifications the Doctors made would most likely be overridden by the bite.” 

Stiles folded his hands in front of him and looked across at Derek and Peter. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he had to ask. “If Scott bit me, would it get rid of the Siren?”

“No.” Derek said with an apologetic frown, nodding towards Lydia, “Now that it’s activated, and it’s a part of you, you’d be immune to the bite just like Lydia. It would have been the same with Kira. The human body is incapable of maintaining an equal balance between two species, you can’t be a werewolf and something else. The magic would clash, causing adverse effects as it did with Lydia, so even trying it wouldn’t be worth the risk.”

“Why are you all ignoring the obvious solution?” Theo’s voice surprised everyone, but the Chimera’s face was an intentional blank mask this time. Clearly Stiles’ thrall had either faded, or he’d shaken free of it. “From the looks of it, my choices are between death and a skinwalker prison. There’s a perfectly good third option.” 

Scott turned to Theo, “We’re not letting you go.” 

“What if you could let me go, AND solve your baby siren problem at the same time? I’d even accept being bitten, if that’s what it took.”

“And how would _you_ solve our siren problem?” Derek asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m a person, _not_ a problem.” Stiles grumbled under his breath.  
  
“He.” Theo gestured with his head towards Peter, “said that Stiles needs to use the thrall regularly to keep it under control. I don’t really want to die or go to some underworld hell prison. And I know none of you are going to believe me when I say this, but I had a plan and it failed. I’m not big on futility, and especially now that Scott has a right-hand siren, I know a losing battle when I see one.” Theo shrugged, “Stiles has shown that I can’t resist him, and he’s essentially invincible. So, instead of prison, I agree to be Stiles’ thrall punching bag, and everyone goes back to their happy little lives.”

The silence that followed hung heavily over the room, and Stiles wasn’t sure whether he was glad or not that he hadn’t gotten the telepathy that was occasionally discussed in the Siren literature he’d come across. 

“And what happens when you sneak out of town in the middle of the night and decide to find a different pack somewhere to take over?” Stiles asked, studying Theo’s face carefully. Stiles narrowed his eyes, “What’s your angle? What do you get out of this?” 

“Does it matter? Maybe I’m just feeling charitable.” 

Stiles knew there was more to that answer, but also considered the venue, and that he probably shouldn’t try to get a real answer out of Theo in front of the entire pack. Theo was on guard, and having just faced the scrutiny of the pack, in some odd way, Stiles sympathized with him. 

“And what, I’m just stuck with you forever?” 

Theo cocked his head, and shrugged, “Just until I convince you all that I’m not actually out to kill you. People do change.”

“Are you sure we can’t just kill him?” Malia asked Scott pointedly. 

Scott sighed, face in his hands. “No killing.” He said, looking at Stiles. “It’s your call, Stiles. It could help, and he seems to know what he’s asking for.”

Stiles sighed and turned to his dad, “This affects you too, Dad. He almost killed you. He’d be around… a lot.” 

Noah frowned, glaring at Theo. He studied the cuffed teenager for a long time, the entire room seemed to hold their collective breath. Stiles knew his father well enough to know exactly what was warring in his father’s mind; Theo the dangerous killer and Theo the homeless, orphaned teenager. 

“What happens if he hurts or kills someone again?” Noah asked finally, turning to Scott. “How many chances does he get?” 

“This is his last chance.” Scott said, voice sure. “He gets the bite today, agrees to let Stiles use his powers on him, and we all go back to school next week like nothing happened. And if anything does happen, Theo.” Scott turned to Chris, who nodded. “There will be no more chances, are we clear?” 

Theo met Scott’s gaze with a sharp nod. “Whatever you say, boss.” 

It surprises no one when, after Scott’s bite forces the anomalies from the Dread Doctors out of Theo’s system, his fabricated golden eyes shift to cobalt blue. It also doesn’t escape anyone's notice that Scott, the True Alpha, the one who got his power through sheer force of will now had three blue-eyed betas (and Peter) and only two with golden eyes. 

\--

Noah had, after much deliberation, decided that given Theo’s current homelessness and the presence of an empty room in the Stilinski house, that Theo could use the guest room. 

Stiles had seen remarkably little of the newly-turned werewolf over the weekend, but every time he’d poked his head into the guest room, Theo had flicked his eyes up at Stiles, smirked, and then returned to whatever book he was reading or random thing he was doing on his laptop. Stiles would throw out some kind of sarcastic command to fill some of his need, and then disappear back to his own room to contemplate how exactly he had gotten to this particular place in life. 

The whole thing made him even more anxious than he’d been before, which was saying quite a lot. 

Blessedly, on Monday morning when Stiles finally stumbled (late) out to his jeep to head to school, Theo’s truck was already gone. The emotions were a confusing blend of worry AND relief. Theo was his responsibility, so he should care that Theo had effectively disappeared, but it was also the first hours since the meeting that Stiles had actually been alone. He was all too aware of how sharp werewolf hearing could be, and he’d been painfully, consciously aware that there was a werewolf just across the hall from him. 

It had also not escaped his notice that his dad had worked most of the weekend, and none of his friends had bothered to stop by to see how things were going. Stiles figured they probably had their own lives to attend to, but it still nagged at him; how much more was he going to lose because of this? 

First he was a risk to everyone around him, now he was Theo’s overseer, and even his friends were starting to cut him off?

Some of the anxiety eased when, standing by his locker, Scott greeted him by clapping him on the shoulder, and then leaning against the next locker. “How was it?” Scott asked, eyes concerned.

“Quiet.” Stiles said, swapping his books out for the ones he’d need for morning classes, “He just sat in the guest room all weekend.” 

Scott frowned, “But did you like… do the thing?”

Stiles stared straight ahead and then rolled his eyes, turning to Scott, “Do the thing?” 

Scott looked away, “Y’know… use your power.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, “I did a bit. When I felt like I needed to. I mostly just told him to do whatever he was already doing though.” 

Scott turned back to Stiles, “I thought you had to…” He glanced down, “I thought sex was a part of this.” 

Stiles closed his eyes, closed his locker, and then rested his forehead against the cool metal, his face aflame. “Scott.” He drew in a long breath, “If what you guys wanted out of this was some kind of weird way of using me as a weapon against Theo…” He turned, lips pursed, and dropped his voice to a whisper, “I’m not going to do anything sexual with anyone. There is no consent with me, do you get that?” 

Scott nodded slowly, “Sorry.” He said, giving Stiles a one-sided half-smile, “Do you feel better, though?” 

Stiles headed towards first period with a shrug, “Maybe? Everything has been so crazy over the last year -- or last, two years, really -- it’s not like I have a good baseline for how I normally feel. I keep waiting for something to jump out and attack someone or for Lydia to start drawing trees again.” 

Malia and Lydia arrived in the same first period Precalculus class as Stiles and Scott, and both looked up to give the other two a smile and a wave. Malia was even brave enough to duck in to give Stiles a quick hug. 

Stiles didn’t blame Lydia a bit for the fact that she didn’t.

\--

Lunch was reminiscent of years past, their a mix of people and personalities, and the lack of overhanging tragedy or villain, a welcome change. The younger pack members were complaining about a test they had in U.S. History that they were seriously unprepared for, Lydia was tutoring Malia in math as usual, and Scott was trying to peel Liam and Corey away to discuss Lacrosse. That left Stiles sat between Scott and Malia, but across from a suspiciously quiet Theo. 

Stiles poked at the unappealing school lunch, wondering idly if his invulnerability extended to starvation. Theo nudged his foot under the table, forcing Stiles to look up, both eyebrows lifted. 

“Can I help you?”

“Do we need to go outside?” He asked, pointedly.

“Why would we need to do that?”

“Because I’ve caught twelve different people staring at you since lunch began. I’m pretty sure you’re leaking.” Theo said, cocking an eyebrow, “Especially since you haven’t used it yet today.”

Stiles frowned, “If I was ‘leaking’ wouldn’t everyone here be able to feel it too?”

“We’re used to it.” Lydia said, looking up from the textbook. “You’ve felt more alluring for months. We know you, and now we know what’s causing it. We’re used to ignoring it.” She gave Stiles a small smile and then turned back to what she was working on with Malia. 

Stiles turned back to Theo, “See, it’s normal.” 

\--

What was _not_ normal, however, was the fact that three different people stopped Stiles in the hallway after lunch to ask him out on dates. 

Whether this was something new -- his siren nature developing in real time with his knowledge of the powers -- or if Stiles had just been too distracted over the last several months to notice it, it was definitely something he wasn’t used to, nor was it something he was really interested in dealing with.

Which only made him fractionally less mad when Theo, between sixth and seventh period, cornered Stiles in the stairwell, backed him against the wall and plastered their mouths together in a kiss that shocked Stiles so much that he forgot not to return it. By the time he’d realized what was happening, enough people had seen it happen that it would probably be all over the school by the end of the day. 

Stiles gripped Theo’s shoulder, “ **Stop**.” 

The werewolf pulled away instantly, giving Stiles a small, smug grin before he turned to go to class.  
  
Stiles sagged against the wall.

_What the fuck?_

\--

A million reasons to turn around and leave flashed through Stiles’ mind as he stood at the door to Derek’s loft. He was sure that Derek knew he was there, would have heard him coming up the elevator, and that only froze him in place more firmly. This was pretty high on his list of no-good very-bad ideas.

Before Stiles could decide to turn around and leave, the door slid open, revealing Derek staring at him expectantly. “Did something happen?” He asked.

Stiles shook his head, folding his hands in front of him, eyes downcast. “Can I come in?” 

Derek stepped back into the loft, and motioned Stiles in before closing the door behind him. 

“Everything go okay at school today?” 

“I guess so, depending on your definition of ‘okay.’” Stiles said with a grimace. “The entire student body now thinks that Theo and I are dating, so…” 

Derek’s face did something complicated before it landed on amusement, “That explains why you smell like him. Shouldn’t you be home with your boyfriend, then?” 

Stiles gave Derek his best unimpressed glare before tucking himself into the corner of Derek’s couch. “I wanted to thank you.” He said, tapping one hand on his thigh, the other one clenched in a fist inside the pocket of his hoodie. “For uh, figuring this out for me.” 

“You were a bit busy with other things.” Derek said, shrugging one shoulder.

“Yeah, and you could have been here helping with them, instead, because of me you were going all over the world spending god only knows how much money-”

“Money doesn’t matter to me.” Derek said, “People do.” 

Stiles stared down at his hand, blinking as he tried to process what Derek had just said. Had he just implied, “I matter to you?” He looked up at Derek, confused.

The complicated flurry of emotions passed over his face again and then Derek sighed, his jaw twitching slightly. “All of you matter to me.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “But you didn’t go all over the world for all of us. You did that for _me_.”

Derek rolled his eyes and spun so his back was to Stiles, elbows bent like his hands were on his face. “What’s your point, Stiles?” 

“When were you going to tell me, Derek?” Stiles asked, careful to make it a question, not an order, thankful that Theo’s stunt in the hallway had temporarily filled the need in his chest. 

Derek stayed still for a long moment, staring out the windows. “Do you know what factors into the strength of a siren’s thrall?”

“You know literally everything I do about sirens, Derek.” 

“Proximity is the obvious one, then the relative strength of the person you’re trying to compel. Scott is going to resist you more easily than most others for that reason. Wolves can resist the vocal thrall but not the tactile thrall. If someone has magic, like Deaton, they might be able to counteract the thrall. The other factor is affection or attraction. By the Siren or the target. The more attracted you are to your target, the more your thrall is going to affect them.” 

Stiles closed his eyes, Lydia flashing through his mind, “That didn’t answer my question.” 

Derek turned around, “You’re 17, Stiles.” He said, shaking his head, “I refuse to be like her.” 

_Kate_. Stiles nodded slowly, lips pressed into a flat line. 

“And now we can’t.” He said softly. 

“We could.” Derek said, “Eventually, when you’re older, when you know that this-”

“No.” Stiles shook his head, eyes somber, bottom lip caught between his teeth for a moment, “No, Derek, we can’t.” He held up his hand and stared down at it, “You never even told me you liked me because you refused to be like Kate, like the woman who took advantage of you. That means you’re nothing like her. But me…” Stiles looked up to catch Derek’s eye, “You deserve someone better than me. You deserve to trust your own feelings, and with me, you never could.” 

Derek stared at Stiles, the only sign he was affected at all the sad wrinkling around his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He finally said, hands clenching at his sides. 

Stiles stood up from the couch, tucking the other hand into his pocket and giving Derek a small shrug and a sad smile. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better, Der.” 

A moment later, Derek was there, inches from Stiles, their faces so close that Stiles could see all the different colors that made up Derek’s eyes. Stiles tried to pull back but Derek shook his head, “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Derek slowly, so painfully slow, lowered his face to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips. Stiles naturally leaned in as Derek’s hands wrapped around his shoulders to draw him closer. 

Stiles caught himself a second later and tore himself away from the werewolf, pushing a burst of _don’t stop me_ at Derek before he broke contact completely. 

“You should be.”

He left quickly after, not turning back until he made it to his jeep. 

He waited until he was a few miles away to pull over and break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon Notes: 
> 
> We really really tried to make sure that this fic, despite centering on mind control/manipulation themes, strayed as far away from a non-con storyline as humanly possible. Theo's POV is included almost entirely for that point - we wanted it to be really clear that he _chose_ this.


	2. An Upset in the Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Let's get into this! 
> 
> Chapter 2 is largely free of potentially triggering stuff, but it references stuff that has already happened, so there's a small note about that at the end. 
> 
> Just a general warning for mentions of some past abuse anytime we're in Theo's headspace. As we can all imagine, his life has not been all sunshine and roses. 
> 
> Enjoy & there will be more coming soon! We love comments! Here or on Tumblr! Tumblr links in the end notes!

Lydia could try to pretend that up until Stiles had waltzed into her bedroom the day after she and Jackson had been attacked at the video store, she’d had no clue who he was. However, that would be a lie. Stiles had made himself an unforgettable and immovable part of her life for as long as she could remember. 

He saw right through her mask, called her out and encouraged her to be who she really was. He’d loved the true Lydia Martin longer than she had even loved herself, and that kind of faith made its mark.

So it hadn’t really been all that shocking when things started shifting from the status quo, a sudden unexpected attraction, and a new desire to spend time around him seemed logical. They were certainly friends, maybe on the edge of something more. Stiles had a way of disarming people with humor, dismantling problems faster than they arose, and defending his friends to his last breath, almost literally in too many situations. He gave all of himself to everything he did, and Lydia admired that about him.

She wanted to pretend the reason she hadn’t noticed the new eccentricities that manifested after the Nogitsune had been extracted from Stiles was just the chaos, but that was a lie. The reason she hadn’t noticed them was because she hadn’t wanted to. Her own feelings of friendship, attraction, maybe even love for Stiles got wrapped up in the sudden appearance of his thrall. 

And as much as she wished it wasn’t the case, they were tainted because of it. All the times she’d previously felt safe around Stiles, were now times she questioned if he’d used his powers on her, and feelings of appreciation and betrayal were vying for dominance in her mind.

Lydia didn’t fear much, not anymore, but after what Peter Hale had done to her, she feared being used against her own will. She feared the loss of her friends and her family. She feared that one day she might scream for the death of someone she loved, or worse, be the one to discover their body too late to help. She’d screamed for Allison. She’d predicted Derek’s temporary death. 

Those fears were real, and valid.

However, the fact that the person she now feared most was the person she also trusted most was a combination of emotions that was exhausting to decipher, and she didn’t know what to do with them. 

Stiles would never intentionally do anything to hurt the people he cared about, not if he had any other option. He wasn’t as morally righteous as Scott, but he cared deeply for the people around him at the expense of himself. And yet, even consciously knowing this about him, Lydia was terrified of him now and of what he could do. She’d spent weeks unbeknownst to her as Peter Hale’s puppet, and then had been dragged around by a demon wearing Stiles’ face. 

It had taken her a long time to look at Stiles and see the warmth in his eyes again, to see her friend and trust that the person she was looking at was the real Stiles. 

And now, she had to revisit every one of those memories, comb over every detail to see if she could remember if Stiles had used -- knowingly or unknowingly -- his thrall on her. She remembered that kiss in the Sheriff’s office, the random sudden desire to kiss Stiles, be with Stiles, _love Stiles_ ** _._ **

As much as it hurt her, she knew what might have been would never be, not with Stiles as he was now. Not when she couldn’t trust if her feelings were _hers_ or some manifestation of his power.

Maybe if she could find a way to resist the thrall, or find a way to limit Stiles’ need to use the thrall, then maybe they could have a chance. At the very least, maybe she could get her friend back.

Until then, though as much as it hurt, she’d have to keep her distance. The thrall got stronger the more it was used with the target gradually losing the ability to resist over time. She knew of three times the thrall had definitely been used on her, and until Stiles got himself under control, she didn’t want to give him any more opportunities. 

Even if that meant subjecting him to time alone with _Theo_.

\--

Lydia had not expected the ally she realized she had in the fight to help Stiles. Derek, fresh off of his own resurrection, and his undead uncle had taken off from a temple in Mexico to scour the world for answers to the question nobody else had been asking; what was happening to Stiles?

Lydia wasn’t blind. Derek wasn’t as sneaky as he might have assumed he was, the way he looked at Stiles when he thought no one was looking spoke of exactly the level of devotion it would take to go on a hunt across the world for answers. Lydia had seen it, and unlike her own confusing feelings for Stiles, which were only starting to blossom through the fiasco with the Nogitsune, Derek had been looking at Stiles like that for a long time.

So, Lydia didn’t question it when her instincts told her to go to Derek. In the past she might have considered going to Deaton, but while he’d been moderately helpful in the past, it had never been assistance freely offered, more like pieces of a puzzle they still had to assemble. It seemed pointless to go to Deaton when Derek and Peter already knew not only how to assemble the puzzle, but very likely where to purchase it. 

So on Saturday morning, bright and early, she picked up takeout from the local diner, and knocked on Derek’s door at 9am. She was dressed for the ‘training’ that Scott was insisting they do later that afternoon, but still put together enough to feel secure. She didn’t have claws and fangs, but she did have a vanity full of makeup, a high-end flat iron, and countless tubes of red lipstick.

Derek answered the door in a wife beater and sweatpants, “Did something happen?” 

His hair, usually styled, looked soft, a halo of darkness around his face, where his unshaven face was darkened by his usually-plentiful stubble. A faint sheen of sweat dotted his brow, like he’d been working out before he answered the door. She wouldn’t put it past him. 

Lydia couldn’t help but smile. This was a side of Derek she suspected few people saw. “Nothing new, no.” She held up the bag of food, “Hungry?” 

Derek frowned, eyebrows drawn together, arms crossed over his chest, “I could eat.” 

Lydia raised one of her own perfectly sculpted brows, “Are you going to let me in?” 

Derek rotated out of her way, nodding his head towards the interior of the loft before closing the door behind her. 

“So, breakfast on a Saturday, are you sure there’s nothing for me to be concerned about?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Are you always this suspicious when people do nice things for you?” She said as she dropped the takeout bag onto the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Yes.” Derek said, plainly. 

Lydia considered his history for a moment and then shrugged, “Fair, I suppose.” She dug through what amounted to Derek’s kitchen for a couple of forks before returning to the couch and handing a white styrofoam carton to him, “I promise there’s no ulterior motive here.” 

“Then why did I just hear your heart stutter?” Derek asked, taking the carton from her regardless.

“Well, okay my motives aren’t entirely _pure_ per se, but I’m not here to do you any harm.”  
  
“Then why _are_ you here, Lydia?” 

Lydia stabbed at a piece of turkey sausage, “I need your help.” 

Derek chewed thoughtfully on a piece of pancake, swallowed, and asked, “What kind of help?” 

“I want to find a way to help Stiles.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes after that, Lydia working on an egg white omelette while the former-alpha devoured a more diverse breakfast. When Lydia was done, she closed the container and then sat back against the couch. 

“Being a siren is hurting Stiles.” She said, sighing, “He’s not himself. He’s even more jittery and anxious then he was before; he’s second guessing everything he does. He wouldn’t tell me, and I’m certainly not going to ask Theo, but I’d be willing to bet he’s using a bare minimum of thrall on Theo to keep himself stable, but it’s clearly not enough.”  
  
“That sounds like something you should be talking to Scott about, not me. He’s the Alpha.” 

“He’s not in love with Stiles.” 

Derek froze in a way that suggested, were he not a supernatural creature with the associated reflexes, he might have dropped the fork he was holding. “I’m not-”

“Don’t lie, Derek.” Lydia shrugged, “You’re certainly not going to get any judgement from me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek said, softly. “He already told me he wouldn’t even consider being in a relationship with me now.” 

“Because of the consent thing.” Derek nodded slowly and then returned to his breakfast, “I miss the old Stiles. My friend, our friend. Regardless of what we may or may not feel for him now, he was there for all of us at one time or another. And now he’s a pit of self-hatred and fear and it’s almost-”

“Almost like the Nogitsune all over again.” Derek finished, setting his own carton back on the table and sitting back. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to be able to do to help. He’s not in any mortal danger. He needs to use his thrall, Theo offered to let him for god knows what reasons, and that should be helping.”

“What if we could find a way to limit the effects, or find a way for us to resist the thrall, so he could be himself around us again?” 

Derek studied her face, “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that Stiles has been a siren for all of nine months, but clearly you and Peter were able to find information about sirens that goes back for centuries. You went looking for an identity, but maybe instead of trying to find information about what he is, we look for ways to help him; to give him his life back to whatever degree we can.”

“And what if there’s nothing out there to be found?”

Lydia stared past Derek, her heart sinking, sadness building in her in a way that she could tell from Derek’s face that he could smell. 

“Then at least we can say that we tried everything we could.” 

\-- 

A cheap knockoff.

An ordinary evil.

_A failure._

Theo had never bothered with the illusion that he was a good person. Maybe once upon a time, back when he was little, growing up in Beacon Hills. Back when he’d wanted nothing more than to be _noticed_ by Scott McCall and his ever-present best friend. Back before he’d given up everything he had to win, but instead, he ended up losing more than he thought possible. 

That was probably his first mistake, trusting pseudo-immortal scientists who were obsessed with creating the perfect monster. Theo had always known that he wasn’t _that_ monster; he was _a convenient_ monster for them, just a placeholder. 

He’d killed his sister, and then his parents at the Dread Doctors insistence. He’d slipped easily into the role they needed him to play. He let them strip away every piece of who he was, and shape him to be the weapon they wanted.

And then they’d thrown him away, like he was nothing. 

So, Theo tried to retain all the knowledge he’d gained over the years working for them, and forge his own path. He’d collected a pack, made himself as strong as he could, but then, at the last moment he’d been brought down by a force he’d never seen coming.

Stiles had -- since long before Theo stole his sister’s heart and began his own descent into chaos -- made an impact on him that he hadn’t factored into his calculations. Stiles being a siren had only made it even harder to predict what Scott and his pack would do next. With Lydia out of commission they should never have been able to take down the Beast on their own, they should have _needed_ Theo. But then Stiles had waltzed in, and it had all been over in a matter of minutes. 

Corey and Hayden left him, and Theo couldn’t even blame them for the decision. In all the confusion and shock, he’d barely put up any resistance against Argent when he took him into custody; he had sat idly by as everyone recovered. 

For the first time in his life, Theo had no goals, or purpose. 

He was just… _alone_. 

And then, this fortuitous opportunity that he hadn’t seen coming presented itself; another chance to be _needed_. It wasn’t glorious or heroic by any stretch of the imagination, but Theo knew he couldn’t survive if he continued down the path he was on. Nobody trusted him, half of the pack wanted him dead, and the only solution was to seek if not forgiveness, then perhaps a chance at redemption for what he’d done. 

And if that meant he had to be a plaything for a fledgling siren, well, Theo’s nightmares were full of _way_ worse fates than that.  
  
Hell, if he was lucky, maybe he would get to live out some of his dreams instead.

\--

Someone, and Theo’s bet was Lydia, had been paying more attention to ‘The Siren Stiles Situation’ than Theo had given them credit for. Stiles was barely using his thrall; only just enough with a few half-hearted orders a day, most of which Theo had been able to shake off in less than a few minutes. Stiles wasn’t releasing enough power to satisfy his needs. At the rate he was going, an overload was inevitable, especially if he kept resisting. 

Over the past months, Stiles’ thrall had in large been out of his control, manifesting in tense situations like when he was in danger or angry. It’s possible those breaches were burning off enough energy to keep Stiles momentarily stable, but now he was actively resisting using his thrall with anyone in any capacity, including Theo. 

The older half of the pack was meeting on Saturday afternoon for a combination of hand-to-hand training, and a chance for Stiles to use his thrall in a controlled setting. Originally, the entire pack was supposed to be there, but when Scott mentioned to Stiles that they wanted to get more familiar with the effects of his thrall, to see if they could resist him in any way, Stiles had agreed but only if the ‘puppies,’ as he called them, were not involved. Theo had overheard this particular phone call, while he was not so subtly spying on Stiles.

Not long after, Theo had been ordered by their fearless leader to attend as well. Probably so that the pack could see for themselves that Theo would do as he was told by someone who wasn’t Stiles, and to make sure he hadn’t magically learned how to resist a siren’s song in the last week. 

He was fairly sure that was impossible, unless the person had their own psychic abilities, stronger than that of a siren. Given that the Nogitsune had awakened and amplified the power that Stiles did have, he may become one of the most powerful sirens in existence. The Dread Doctors had briefly looked into them, but upon learning about their invulnerabilities and vast potential for power, they decided sirens were more trouble than they were worth. 

After all, the Doctors needed to be able to terminate an experiment when they got out of control. Only four had survived them; Hayden, Corey, Mason, and Theo himself, and two of those had required a resurrection at that. 

Just before they left for training, Theo took a deep breath and knocked on Stiles’ door. Asking for things wasn’t something he was accustomed to. Most of his life, he’d either taken what he needed, or been thankful for what he was given. But, he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept acting like everything was going to be handed to him. And, he knew Stiles had something he wanted.

Stiles opened the door with a confused glare, “What?” 

Theo steeled himself, “Can I borrow a book?” He asked motioning in the vague direction of where he knew the bookshelf was. 

Stiles blinked a few times, the confusion on his face still present. “Like, a novel?” 

“No, a textbook.” Theo rolled his eyes, “This training is kind of pointless for me, but Scott wants me there anyway, so I wanted to bring a book. I’ve already read all of the ones I own, so I was wondering if I could look at yours.” 

Stiles took a step back away from the doorway, still watching Theo warily but motioning for him to come into the room. When Theo did, he made a beeline for the bookshelf, while Stiles dropped into his desk chair and watched Theo suspiciously. 

Theo smirked over his shoulder, “I swear I’m just in here for a book, Stiles.” 

Stiles let out a huff of, what might have been, laughter through his nose, “Right, well I’m just not used to werewolves actually _asking_ to come into my room and look through my stuff. Scott’s been helping himself to my room since we were kids and I don’t think Derek realizes we even _have_ a front door.” Stiles was spinning idly in the computer chair, Theo could hear it turning as he glanced through titles. “I could suggest something.”

Theo knew an opportunity when he saw one. “Sure.” 

After a ten minute almost-friendly discussion about the books Theo had and hadn’t read, he left Stiles’ room with a set of three paperbacks. The alarm on his phone to leave for training buzzed as he returned to his room, dropping the second and third volumes in the series onto the bed before turning around. Stiles was in the hallway when Theo exited the room, pulling his door closed.  
  
“Did you want to ride with me?” Stiles asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, whiskey eyes fixed on Theo’s face. 

Again, not wanting to pass up an opportunity, Theo shrugged, giving Stiles his best charming smile, “Sure, thanks.” 

Theo knew that if this was ever going to work, if he was ever going to be seen as anything other than the bad guy, he had to get a social pardon from Scott. To get that, he had to prove himself useful to Stiles, be at least vaguely trustworthy, and had to actively help Stiles keep his siren nature in check. 

Currently, despite Theo’s best efforts to help, Stiles was continuing to resist for reasons currently unknown to him. Theo could have speculated any number of reasons, but none of them mattered; Theo had to find a way to get it through Stiles’ head that he was _okay_ with him using his thrall. 

He’d taken dozens of lives. He’d betrayed people to selfishly get what he wanted out of a situation. He _was_ the bad guy. Doing this for Stiles, letting him use Theo in whatever way kept him sane and reasonably harmless to everyone else was barely a blip on his radar. 

The implications of where that could go -- sirens could be driven as much by lust and sex as by compulsion and murder, after all -- hadn’t escaped Theo’s notice either. 

\--

Based on what Theo had overheard, since Derek owned the entire building that his loft was housed in, there was an entire empty floor on the level below the one he lived on. They’d cleared it out to use as a training space. Stiles parked his jeep between Scott’s motorcycle and Lydia’s car, Theo trailing behind him as he headed towards the lower level of the industrial warehouse. 

Given the sporadic bursts of a banshee wail that Theo was hearing, Lydia was already there. When he and Stiles rounded the doorway, they saw her and Derek already sparring, Lydia using scream-assisted strength to hold her own reasonably well against the former alpha. Theo caught a glimpse of something black in Derek’s ears; an ear plug, very likely, would protect him from the more devastating effects of the scream, but also limit his ability to use his hearing to predict Lydia’s movements. It made for an interesting fight.

Chris had both Scott and Malia tied to chairs, and was talking them through the best way to get out of bindings in situations when they didn’t want their shifter power to become obvious. When Stiles and Theo walked in, Chris gave Scott a hard look, and the alpha nodded, breaking free of his restraints easily with a burst of strength. 

“Hey!” 

Theo cocked an eyebrow and Stiles gave a half-hearted wave. Scott strode over to them, “Stiles, go take my place with Chris. He’s going to work on getting out of bindings when you can’t speak, since that would be the easiest way to disable you.”

“Gags, fun.” Theo said with a snort. Stiles side-eyed him, rolled his eyes and then headed over to the hunter. Theo glanced at Scott, “I suppose I’m just here to look pretty and behave myself?” 

Scott shook his head, smiling, “No, if you’re going to be around Stiles, you might as well be useful to him. I’m going to go swap out with Derek, and then the Hales are going to evaluate how much you already know.”

Hales. Plural. Theo carefully schooled his expression but also swallowed. This was probably going to hurt. 

\--

A half hour passed both incredibly quick and painfully slow as Theo actually had to work to avoid getting his ass kicked by both of the Hale wolves, neither of whom seemed interested in pulling their punches. Lydia and Scott had finished up, Scott physically stronger but technically weaker than Derek had been, and Lydia exhausted from a fight with two different werewolves. Malia had gotten out of her restraints, but Stiles was still in his, wrists raw from pulling against the ropes. 

“Take a break, guys.” Scott said, nodding his head towards the door where, seconds later, Theo could hear a set of footsteps and a heartbeat. Alan Deaton stepped through the door a moment later. “Dr. Deaton is here so we can go over some defensive magic, so we’ll do that when everyone is cooled off.”

Theo looked at Derek and Peter, “So, if I’m alive does that mean I passed?” He smirked. 

“You did fine.” Derek said, not looking at Theo, eyes on the druid-veterinarian, “You should see if you can convince Stiles to let you teach him how to fight.” 

Theo raised an eyebrow, “He’d have to be willing to touch me to do that.” He murmured.

Derek cocked his head to the side and made a noncommittal noise before heading over towards Lydia. Theo didn’t know what to make of his odd behavior, so he scanned the room. Malia had let Stiles out of his restraints, Chris and Deaton were discussing the bag of items that Deaton had brought with him, and Scott and Stiles were speaking too quietly for Theo to hear without putting effort in.

“Let’s begin.” Dr. Deaton said a few minutes later, and everyone formed a loose half-circle around him. 

“We’ll start with an obvious one, which offers an opportunity to ensure that Mr. Raeken’s transition to a full werewolf is complete.” Deaton spat out Theo’s name like a poison, and if Theo was more easily offended, he would have been. “Mountain ash.” 

The druid tossed a handful of it into the air, and it formed a neat circle just outside of all of them. “Now, Stiles, Lydia, Mr. Argent and myself are the only ones who should be able to leave the circle, but I’d like everyone to try.”

Theo sucked in a breath, turning around to step towards the line. Where before, it had been nothing more than dust, now he could feel the power that thrummed through the circle. He stopped just short of the line and reached a hand out, feeling the wall of power. 

Glancing around, it seemed like all of the other shifters were in the same boat. Deaton, Lydia and Chris had stepped over the line without issue, but Stiles had hesitated at the line, causing everyone to turn towards him. Theo saw one of his hands clench as he stepped towards the line, but then he stepped past it with little more than an uncomfortable grunt. 

“Stiles, Scott told me that you've recently become aware that you have siren ancestry, is that true?” Deaton asked, his tone neutral enough, but his eyes focused and inquisitive. 

Stiles snorted, “That’s one way to phrase it, I suppose.”  
  
“What did you experience stepping over the line?” 

“It was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop me. It sort of made me feel itchy. It was more noticeable now than when we went to Eichen.” Theo heard Stiles’ heart skipping as he spoke, he was lying, but no one else seemed to take notice. Interesting.

Deaton nodded a few times, and dug through his bag. While he did, Argent casually kicked a foot towards the line of mountain ash, breaking it so the werewolves and Malia were no longer trapped within it. 

Deaton withdrew a small metal coin, “Lydia, I’d like you to try to catch this.” He said with a small, terse smile. He tossed the coin to Lydia who caught it and then immediately dropped it, clutching her hands together. 

“What was that?” She asked, eyes wide. 

“Iron.” Argent answered.

Deaton gave a nod of agreement. “Now, Stiles, you pick it up.”

Stiles shrugged and squatted down to grab it, “Just feels like a coin to me.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. Banshees were a kind of fae, which Deaton clearly knew, and in the name of testing some kind of theory, he’d tossed something at Lydia that he’d known would hurt her. That made Theo question the intentions of the Druid, especially as he extracted a bag of shiny white crystals from his bag. When his back was turned, Theo saw Stiles slip the coin into the pocket of his pants, and caught a glimpse of a red circle on Stiles’ palm. He smirked at no one in particular; of course Stiles wouldn’t want to give away a weakness.  
  
“This is rock salt. It’s- ”

“Mountain ash for fae.” Stiles answered, “And sirens.” His eyes narrowed. 

Deaton gave a sage nod and made a circle of the salt around Stiles and Lydia. “Can either of you pass _that_ line?” 

Neither could it would seem, and it clearly made both of them uncomfortable. Theo picked up the sharp uptick in Stiles’ heart rate, which from plenty of observation, he knew was a sign of impending panic. 

“Get him out of there before he panics.” He whispered, hoping Scott was paying attention to him. The Alpha didn’t reply, but Derek gave a small nod and stepped forward, past the line that Chris had already broken to kick through the salt line. 

When Deaton gave him an unimpressed look, Derek shrugged, “This is just training, right? You made your point.” 

Theo didn’t miss the small, grateful smile that Stiles gave Derek as he stepped away from the salt line with a shudder of disgust. 

“Definitely just a training.” Scott agreed, squeezing Derek’s shoulder. “Let’s move on and see what Stiles can do.” 

They spread back out, Stiles in the center of the room and everyone circled around him except for Deaton, Lydia and Theo. Deaton stood just outside the circle, his eyebrows drawn together watching the others carefully. Theo settled down against one of the walls with the book, more pretending to read than anything. Lydia was against a far wall, moving as far from Stiles as she possibly could be within the limited space available. 

It was strange, from Theo’s perspective, that the Banshee, the creature most related to the Siren, chose not to participate in the activity. A part of Theo wanted to call her out on it, but the other saw the sad, regretful way Stiles’ gaze lingered on her, and decided to drop it. 

Chris, Peter and Malia had never experienced his thrall directly, so Stiles started with them, giving a simple, vocal order to each of them to sit down. Chris had clenched his jaw for a moment but gave in, dropping to a seat. Malia had started to drop to a seat, but caught herself, straightening back up on quivering legs, shaking her head and blinking to clear the effects. Peter had fixed his eyes on a point across the room and Theo watched the effort he was using to stay on his feet. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the wolf and reached out a hand to grab his shoulder, which Peter carefully batted away. “Vocal only for now, Stiles.” 

Giving up on the beta, Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He turned and repeated the order to Derek who went down surprisingly easily, given that Peter and Malia had managed to resist. Stiles frowned.  
  
“Have you used it on him before?” Theo asked from his place against the wall. When Stiles replied that he had, he continued, “Thrall gets harder to resist the more it’s used. Even a wolf can’t resist the vocal if you’ve done it enough times before.”

“How long have you been able to use vocal thrall, Stiles?” Deaton asked, eyes flicking briefly to Theo and then back.  
  
“The first time I remember doing it was after we got Derek back from Mexico the first time.” Stiles answered with a shrug, turning to Scott. The Alpha resisted the vocal order easily, smirking back at Stiles, drawing an amused chuckle from the Siren. “Tactile now?” Stiles asked.

“You’re capable of tactile thrall as well?” Deaton sounded more alarmed. Theo didn’t like the way his shoulders had slowly been tightening with tension, and he could smell fear on him. 

“Yeah.” Stiles stepped to Malia, squatting down to grip her shoulder, keeping eye contact with her as he whispered a line of instructions to her. Malia stood, walked to the nearest wall, touched it and then returned.  
  
“And have you successfully used your thrall on Scott?” Deaton asked, his jaw ticking. 

Theo had tucked the book away, rising as quietly as he could to his feet. He didn’t like this line of questioning. Stiles was his one chance, his only chance at ever getting to live a normal life again, and he wasn’t going to let some has-been emissary get in the way of that. 

“Yeah.” Stiles repeated, reaching for Scott’s shoulder and squeezing it. Scott’s eyes flashed red for a moment as he tried to resist, but eventually he too made a trip to the wall and back under Stiles’ silent command.  
  
Stiles suddenly collapsed seconds after Scott returned to the circle with his eyes rolling back almost comically. Theo was sure he was the only one close enough to hear the whispered spell from the Druid. Theo roared and launched himself towards Deaton, but he was intercepted by Derek slamming into him. 

“You better have an explanation.” Derek grumbled 

“He knocked Stiles out.” Theo said looking up at Derek from the floor. The older wolf looked surprised but let him up while keeping a hand clamped on his shoulder. “You used a spell on him!” Theo spat at the Druid, who flicked his gaze away from him dismissively.

“Is that true?” Scott asked, as he crouched next to Stiles’ prone form. Lydia had jumped up when Stiles collapsed, and had knelt next to his body, fingers on his neck to check for a pulse.  
  
“He’s alive.” Lydia said to Scott, who turned to her briefly. “Just unconscious, I think.” She moved on to checking his limbs for injuries. Theo saw her face tighten when she found the red mark on his hand from the iron coin, and approved of her quickly flipping the hand back over.

“Scott, you told me that it had come to light that Stiles had some siren ancestry. You did not tell me that he had enough strength to use vocal, tactile and silent thrall-”

“Silent thrall?” Chris asked, turning his sharp blue gaze on Deaton. 

“The most dangerous kind. You may silence a siren’s song, and you may keep them from touching you, but once a siren has access to your mind, you’re going to do their bidding whether you want to or not.” Deaton’s voice was deadly serious, but nothing could hide the scent of fear on him. 

“How do you even know he did that?” Scott asked.

“He was able to have you do a complex series of tasks: walk, touch something and return, all without saying a word. And, he was strong enough to force compliance from an alpha.” Deaton’s hands were clasped in front of him. “He’s dangerous, Scott. Incredibly so.” 

“He’s Stiles.” Scott replied, “He’s only as dangerous as Stiles ever would be. He’s supposed to be using his thrall on Theo so that he can keep himself in check.” 

Deaton’s eyes widened fractionally and he turned to where Theo stood, “So, not only are you aware of the powerful siren, you’ve also decided that the best person to _gift_ to this siren, is a failed Dread Doctors Experiment with a proven track record for murder and treachery.” 

“Thanks Doc, you make me sound like such a catch.” Theo winked. “Also, I’ve sworn off murder, it’s a violation of my parole.”  
  
Deaton turned back to Scott, exasperated, “I have been feeling a number of incredibly powerful magical echoes over the last few months Scott, and yet every time I sought out the source, I kept running into Stiles. I had assumed he was investigating the magic for you, but now I know I was wrong. _He_ was the cause of the magic.”

Peter, who had been silent, stepped forward, “Dr. Deaton, I know you used to be Talia’s Emissary, and as such, you’re used to having a certain amount of power. You think you have a right to keep the balance.”

“It’s my responsibility as a druid to keep the balance, not as an emissary.” 

“Either way, the Alpha of this territory has already considered the risks and has decided to support Stiles. I would suggest you accept that, as you don’t have a say in the matter.”

Deaton’s features barely changed, but the scents of frustration and fear continued to roll off of him in waves. “Scott, I think you’re making a mistake.” He turned to the alpha. “He’s dangerous. You cannot hope to control him.”  
  
“I don’t need to control him. He’s my best friend. Wake him up.” Scott answered, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I can’t. He’ll sleep off the effects of the spell and be fine when he wakes.” Deaton shook his head slowly, gathered up his bag and then left quickly, leaving the lingering scent trail of fear, frustration and annoyance. 

“We probably should have at least asked about what he had in mind.” Lydia said, turning annoyed eyes on Scott. 

“He smelled afraid.” Malia remarked, crouching near Stiles’ feet, one hand wrapped around his ankle. “Terrified. Of _Stiles_.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Scott said, eyes flashing red, “Stiles is _Stiles_ . He’s helped all of us, saved all of us, and we are going to do everything we can to help him find a way to live with this, because that is what he _would_ do for any of us. It’s what he _did_ for me.”

“Me too.” Lydia agreed. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Derek announced suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’m going back to Greece, to see if I can find another siren, someone Stiles could contact, maybe learn from. I’m also going to see what I can find out about coexisting with sirens. There has to be information out there.” 

Theo was impressed by the werewolf’s dedication. “Isn’t that a little risky? Couldn’t you end up eaten?” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Derek said, turning to Theo with a serious expression. “I’d do the same for _most_ of this pack.” 

“Ouch.” Theo rolled his eyes. 

“We need to get him home. How did you get here, Theo?” Scott asked.  
  
“Stiles drove.” 

“I’ll drive you guys home then, and stay until he wakes up.”

“Why, are you afraid I’m going to run away when he’s not looking? Newsflash, he does sleep from time to time.” Really shitty, restless sleep, but sleep nonetheless. 

Scott’s face was thoroughly unimpressed, “No, so I can explain what happened to him when he does wake up.” 

“Ah.” Theo considered, “I guess it would be better coming from you.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t trust you alone with him.” Malia said, “You always smell horny when you’re around him.” 

A lesser man would have blushed, but Theo just chuckled, “I really am touched that you think so little of me that you’re concerned that _I_ would do something like _that_ to Stiles.” He rolled his eyes, “I’m not stupid, okay? I know if it wasn’t for him I’d be in a box or some underground prison. I have a vested interest in keeping him alive and sane.” 

And maybe he also had a vested interest in being _allowed_ to do the kinds of things they’re assuming he wants to do. But, even he understood consent.

He may be a monster, but he wasn’t _that_ kind of monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Notes:  
> \- Lydia's scene with Stiles from Evil Has a Name gets mentioned, and they both consider how often Stiles might have used his thrall on her/how often he's taken away her agency.
> 
> \- Theo's past is basically canon, but to a slightly exaggerated degree in this fic; he was used as a tool for the doctors in essentially every conceivable way, so if anything about his storyline bothered you in the show, it's likely to bother you here too. 
> 
> Tumblr links!  
> [tiniestawoo (thosewhofall) ](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/)  
> [impractical_matters](https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Evil Has a Name Promo/mood board](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/post/618194381626834944/after-the-nogitsune-stiles-starts-to-notice-some)  
>  [TLE ch1 aesthetic/promo](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/post/618456006894206976/the-lesser-evil-rated-e-15-part-2-of-in-a)  
>  [TLE ch2 aesthetic/promo](https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com/post/618828398686502912/the-lesser-evil-rated-e-chapter-25-part-2-of)


	3. Low Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back once again! This chapter. Y'all. 
> 
> General warnings: 
> 
> To be very explicitly clear: there is sexual contact in this chapter. There's more detail in the end notes, but if this story bothers you because of possible consent issues, it may be a good idea to check the notes or skip the scene. 
> 
> There's also mentions of a panic attack in this chapter.
> 
> \--
> 
> tiniestawoo: I'm perpetually torn as to whether chapter 3 or chapter 4 is my favorite, but they're both great! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

Stiles had been surprised, to say the least, when he woke the morning after the training to Scott curled up at the foot of his bed and Theo asleep on the floor next to the bookshelf. He was more surprised that Derek was gone again, and less surprised that the reason for his magically-induced fifteen hour coma had been Deaton’s doing. 

The Druid knew a lot about a lot of things, and if they hadn’t been constantly fighting for their lives for months he might even have gone to him. It was good, though, that he’d shown his true colors so that, at the very least, Stiles knew to avoid him going forward. 

So with Derek gone, Lydia still avoiding him, and Scott torn between his position at the vet clinic and Deaton’s clear disdain for Stiles, he found himself spending most of time with _Theo_ of all people. 

Despite his history, Theo did seem to be making a conscious effort to stay on Stiles’ good side. Theo had been switching off breakfast duties with Stiles every other morning before school, sitting beside him at lunch and glaring at anyone who was thrall-inspired to get too close to Stiles. 

Stiles was sure there was some kind of psychological term for what was happening, some kind of reverse Stockholm Syndrome. But for the most part, neither of them were doing anything they didn’t want to be doing.

“Where is Theo anyway?” Scott asked, face pinched in focus as he mashed buttons on the playstation controller two weeks later, sitting in the living room of the Stilinski’s house. It was nostalgic, reminiscent of times before werewolves and sirens and other things that go bump in the night. 

“He’s trying to see if he can find Peter’s apartment, so he can ask for access to the Hale vault.” Stiles replied, focused on kicking Scott’s ass rather than the oddness of what he’d just said. “Something about a stockpile of magical lore. He apparently misses the access he had to the Dread Doctors information caches.”

The oddness had not, apparently, missed Scott, though, because he sat the controller down and turned towards Stiles, “Theo… is trying to find _Peter_?” He repeated. 

“I don’t think either of them want to kill you anymore, for what it’s worth. Plus, they’d have to go through me, and I barely even have to look at Theo for the thrall to affect him anymore.” 

Really, much to Stiles’ concern, he barely had to _speak_ around Theo anymore for his thrall to take hold of the werewolf, which was even more concerning than the vocal and tactile thrall had been. 

“Peter seemed to be able to resist you.”

“I didn’t get to touch Peter.” Stiles screwed up his face at the phrasing and Scott laughed. “You know what I meant.” 

“Do you think Peter is going to let Theo into the vault?” 

“If Theo can even find Peter. No, I don’t, but it got him out of here for a few hours so we could hang out without prying ears.” Stiles reached up to flick the edge of Scott’s ear. Scott rolled his eyes at him. 

They returned to the video game, resetting the level they’d both failed while discussing the meeting between villains that surprisingly, neither of them were actually that concerned about.

To an extent, Stiles was sure it had to be false confidence in Stiles’ abilities. Scott trusted, since now that Stiles was a siren, that nobody would ever be able to hurt the pack again; and that Scott would never have to kill anyone again because Stiles would just make the situation better. Stiles knew that wasn’t the case, that someday people would come after them again, some day, someone would find a way to shut Stiles down and force the pack to fight. 

Hell - Deaton had done it effortlessly two weeks ago and apparently the only person who realized it was was _Theo._

Speaking of two weeks ago. “Have you heard from Derek?” Stiles asked when they hit the next loading screen. 

Scott shook his head, “He talks to Lydia sometimes. She’d know more.” 

“She’s avoiding me.” Stiles sat back against the couch with a thump. “She’s afraid of me.” 

“Why would she be afraid of you? She still sits with us at lunch and comes to pack meetings and stuff.” 

“Trust me, Scott, she’s afraid of me and I can’t even blame her.” The almost-confession was heavy, dirty, wrong in his mouth. 

Scott drew in a breath and focused his attention at Stiles, “Did you give her a _reason_ to be afraid?” 

Stiles stared at the floor for a long time, before giving the smallest of nods. The truth spilled out of him like a levee broke, resulting in simultaneous pain and relief at having told someone else. 

“She caught me off guard and we ended up kissing.” He breathed, feeling even worse about it this time. “It was… subconscious? It was an accident, I brushed up against her. It wasn’t like I ordered it.”

“Did you stop?” Scott asked, his voice carefully guarded. 

“ _Yes_ , as soon as I realized what had happened.” Stiles answered, chewing on the inside of his cheek as the feelings of guilt churned inside of him. “But I don’t even think that was the first time I’d used thrall on her. I’m pretty sure that its happened a lot with her.” 

“Other than the kiss did you ever…” Scott looked uncomfortable. “Do anything inappropriate?” 

“No,” Stiles said quickly, “God no - I’d never - It’s _Lydia_.” 

“I believe you.” Scott smiled at Stiles, relief evident. “I’m sure she knows you don’t want to hurt her. She’ll come around. She’s just nervous, I think. She obviously still cares about you man.”

Stiles pondered this. Scott wasn’t wrong; if Lydia and Derek didn’t care about him, Derek wouldn’t be back in Greece trying to track down a siren at the potential risk to his own life; and Lydia wouldn’t be spending all of her free time studying siren thrall and psychic control, looking for a loophole somewhere that would help Stiles feel less dangerous. Stiles knew from what Malia had offhandedly mentioned and what Theo had conveniently overheard and relayed to him, that Lydia and Derek were both working on things to help him.

He just wished one of them would have told him. That they hadn’t both pulled away from him so quickly, and so soon after getting both of them back - Lydia from Eichen House, and Derek after Mexico.

But a dark, sad part of Stiles couldn’t even blame them. He was a monster designed for the purpose of control, seduction, and murder. He has the ability to force people to do things against their will, and he had forced both of them to do things they probably didn’t want to do. He’d hurt them. 

He’d never forgive himself if it happened again.

“Can you promise me something, Scott?” Stiles asked suddenly, setting the controller on the coffee table, hands folded in front of him, eyes on the floor.

“Anything.” 

“If I uh… If I ever cross that line, with anyone? You find a bronze knife, and you kill me, okay? Or have someone else do it - Theo, or Peter, or Chris. Just…” Stiles looked up at Scott, tears burning in his eyes, “I don’t want to be a monster again. I can’t. Don’t let me turn into a monster, please.” 

Scott hesitated for just long enough for Stiles to notice it before he tugged him in against his chest, holding Stiles tightly, anguish in his chocolate eyes. 

“You’re not a monster, Stiles.” Scott said, and the vehemence in his tone made Stiles want to believe him. “You won’t cross that line. I know you won’t.”

“Promise me.” Stiles said, keeping his hands carefully clasped together, resisting the desire to turn it into an order, to _force_ Scott to agree to kill him. “Please.”

Scott exhaled hard against the back of Stiles’ T-shirt. “I promise.” 

\--

Theo was a lot of things. He was calculating and manipulative. He was observant and perceptive. He was careful and deliberate with his actions. He was prone to violence and unopposed to murder. He was ruthless and dedicated and determined.

But he was _not_ patient.

Living with Stiles for the last five weeks, and watching him sink further and further into this siren and self-hate fueled depression was not Theo’s idea of a good time. When he volunteered for Stiles to use his thrall on him, he’d made the _assumption_ that there would be at least _some_ fun to it. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time Theo used his body to get something, but it would have been the first time he’d done it of his own volition. What Stiles very likely saw as a sin -- to seduce Theo and have sex with him -- would have been a gift to him. Theo had rarely been allowed to have real voluntary relationships, and the ones he did manage to have often ended in death. If the Doctors were feeling charitable, they’d even kill them for him, and unsurprisingly, the Doctors were rarely charitable.

So, what Theo had expected was a week or two of resistance on Stiles’ part. Then Stiles would have given into his siren nature and used his thrall to seduce Theo to take what he so clearly needed to feel anything other than sad. 

Theo could only time his showers carefully so many times, so that Stiles crossed his path while he was still damp and half-dressed. He could only crowd so close to Stiles in the hallway at school and accidentally brush against Stiles’ crotch or ass so often before someone called him out on it.

So clearly, the ‘wait and see’ route was not working out. Theo was sick of smelling the depression and loneliness coming off of him, and sick of watching Stiles spend more effort fighting against himself than he spent taking care of himself. Affection was too strong a word for what he was feeling, but living in such close quarters with someone you were attracted to for five weeks was a special kind of torture, and it wasn’t the brand of torture that Theo had signed up for.

So, the next time Theo heard Stiles start to masturbate, instead of dutifully ignoring it like he usually did, he decided it was time to act. Stiles always tried -- and failed -- to be quiet, and he always made sure his father wasn’t home. He didn’t seem to extend the same courtesy to Theo.

Theo waited just a moment, having the briefest imaginable moral debate about what he was about to do before he opened the door to Stiles’ room, sending the Siren slamming his computer closed and scrambling away from his desk in a flurry of flailing limbs. Stiles quickly flopped himself face down on his bed, nearly pulling the laptop off the desk by the earphones he forgot to remove in his hurry to cover himself.

“What the fuck?! **Get out**!”

Theo rolled his eyes and stepped carefully over the threshold of Stiles’ bedroom, back into the hallway. “You should know, you’re not as quiet as you think you are.” Theo said, leaning against the doorframe, “And I can always hear you when you do this.”

Stiles’ face was aflame as he peaked over his shoulder at Theo and sputtered, “Forgive me for wanting to get off in my own fucking room. Turn off your wolfy ears, or just leave if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t _bother_ me, Stiles.” Theo grinned, “At least not that way.”

Stiles looked confused as he stared over at Theo from the bed, “What?”

“For someone so smart you’re not very perceptive.” Theo said, “I guess you get a pass because you can’t smell arousal, but trust me, Stiles, I _enjoy_ listening to you get yourself off.” Theo leered as he raked his eyes over Stiles’ body, “You know, if you think giving me meaningless orders helps sate your needs, imagine how it would feel to seduce me.” 

Stiles turned away again as his scent shifted from arousal-and-embarrassment to stinging shame. “I… no, I won’t do that. Not even to you.” 

“C’mon, Stiles.” Theo purred, “I’m practically _begging_ for it. This is me consenting. This is me telling you it’s okay.” He tentatively stepped back into Stiles’ room and shut the door behind him. “I knew what you were when I made this deal. I _expected_ this.”

Golden-brown eyes pierced him, “I…” 

Theo could watch the internal battle in those eyes, Stiles’ obvious attraction to him, moral opposition to having sex as a siren, lack of sexual release, and nature as a seduction demon all warring for dominance. 

“Fuck.” 

Theo grinned, “Is that a yes?” He licked his lips, “Good. You’re in charge, Stiles. How do you want me?” 

“I want to fuck your stupid mouth so you’ll _shut up_.” Stiles grumbled into his covers. 

_Well then_. 

“You can.” Theo murmured, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. “But the point of this -- aside from sex, which is always a win in my book -- is to burn off your need, right? So, you know what you want to do, you have my consent…” Theo shrugged, “So, do it.” 

“Fine. **Shut up and take your shirt off.** ” 

Fucking finally. Theo’s jaw closed with a click as his body acted almost completely of its own volition, stripping himself out of the T-shirt he wore to school before standing there and staring expectantly at Stiles. 

Stiles rolled over to face him, and Theo caught sight of his cock; it was just above average, and less hard than he’d probably been when Theo had first interrupted, but still hard enough to jut out from Stiles’ groin and draw his attention. Stiles’ eyes met his briefly, and the mix of desire and fury was _delicious_. His gaze paused on Theo’s lips for a long time before they continued down, raking over his chest and pausing again at the bulge in his jeans that he wasn’t bothering to hide. 

“You’re actually into this.”

Still unable to speak, Theo simply shrugged his shoulders. 

Stiles frowned, “ **Answer me**.”

“I’m into _you_.” Theo replied, “I was before you became a siren, Stiles. You’re hot, smart, and dangerous. Sue me.” 

“ **Get on your knees.** ” Stiles said, as he stepped toward Theo and ignored everything else he had just heard. 

Stiles hesitated for just a moment before he ran a hand through Theo’s hair as he obediently kneeled before him. Stiles didn’t have to speak once his hand made contact with Theo’s scalp. Stiles used his free hand to stroke himself a few times back to full hardness, his eyes fixed on Theo’s as he did. Theo smirked and opened his mouth at the silent command from Stiles. 

Stiles placed the tip of his cock in Theo’s waiting mouth. Theo hummed in appreciation as he tasted him, just as good as he smelled, like sex and sea salt and musk. Theo sucked and licked at the head of Stiles’ cock, listening to Stiles’ hushed curses as his hips began to gently rock forward, building rhythm and pushing more and more of himself into Theo’s willing mouth. Theo relaxed and didn't fight it, one of his hands coming up to stroke the portion of dick that he didn’t have in his mouth. 

“ **Put your hands back down**.” Stiles ordered, and Theo’s hands dropped immediately. Stiles pulled his hips back so that his cock slipped out of Theo’s mouth and he brought his hand away from Theo’s head before he asked, “Swallow or no?” 

“I don’t care.” Theo winked. “Dealer’s choice.” 

Stiles looked equally annoyed and turned on by his answer. He roughly grabbed Theo’s hair again and pressed his dick back against Theo’s lips; this time he pushed in as far as he could, eyes carefully calculating, like he was waiting for Theo to choke. 

As if.

Theo breathed slowly through his nose and relaxed again as he swallowed around the dick pushing into his throat, which sent Stiles practically sobbing a litany of praise. 

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, of course you were serious when you said I could fuck your mouth. Jesus fuck, god _Theo_.” He continued to moan as he took advantage of Theo’s _skills_ and began to thrust forward with more force. He didn’t last long, both hands gripping Theo’s hair hard as he slammed forward one last time and came down Theo’s throat without even thinking to warn him.

Moments later, Stiles collapsed backwards like a limp rag doll, falling to the floor with his head splayed back against the bed as he tried to recover his breathing. He looked at Theo as he wiped excess saliva from his lips and smirked at him. 

“Holy shit.” 

Theo chuckled,“You’re welcome.” 

Then he got up off his knees and reached to adjust himself when suddenly Stiles was on _his_ knees in front of Theo with his hand covering his. Apparently conscious thought wasn’t back online yet, but Theo got the silent order anyway, and unbuckled his belt and slid his boxer briefs down enough to pull his cock out. Stiles’ dark eyes drank in the sight eagerly, and he slowly leaned forward to suck the head of Theo’s cock into his mouth tentatively.

Theo didn’t have any control over what happened next. He could have tried to resist but didn’t see the point. He wanted this, so why should he deny himself? Stiles was using a combination of tactile and silent thrall to _give him a blowjob_ so not only was there very little risk, there was also very little chance of him actually resisting. 

Stiles’ blowjob was obviously less practiced and more experimental than anything, but Theo didn’t care about that. Watching Stiles on his knees, wide brown eyes watering, looking up at him through thick eyelashes while he had complete control over Theo’s movements and actions was such an unfathomable outcome that it wasn’t very long at all before Theo was close, “I’m gonna… fuck Stiles.” 

Stiles pulled off with a pop and kept stroking with a firm hand, “ **Come, Theo.** ”

Theo wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when he actually did, and almost immediately came across Stiles’ hand and somewhat onto his shirt and neck. Theo’s legs shook from the sudden force of his orgasm, and he dropped down to his knees, staring wide-eyed at Stiles for a moment before Stiles ran his come-covered hand through Theo’s hair with a smug smirk and dragged the werewolf in for a kiss. 

“This doesn’t make us friends.” Stiles said between kisses, panting against Theo’s mouth. 

“We’ll get there.” Theo said with a grin. He pulled back, biting his lip slightly, “How uh… how do you feel now?” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at the almost-vulnerable question about Stiles’ wellbeing. “I feel… okay. Calm. Sated.” 

Theo nodded, pressing himself off the floor and back to his feet as he grabbed for his shirt. 

“I’m taking the shower first to get the come out of my hair, you jackass.” He winked as he said it though, heading back out of Stiles’ room towards the bathroom. 

“Don’t tell anyone this happened.” Stiles called after him.

“Don’t worry, _babe_ ** _,_ **your secret’s safe with me.” Theo replied.

“It better be, or I will find a way to make you regret it.” Stiles muttered to himself, barely audible through several closed doors. “Somehow.”

\--

When Derek was younger, before Paige, before Kate, and before the fire, he had dreamed of traveling the world. 

Peter traveled a lot after he finished college, mostly on pack business since Talia was tethered to Beacon Hills and her children. He always brought back fantastic gifts and amazing stories. Derek would always volunteer first to ride with whichever of his family members were driving to the airport to retrieve Peter from his various travels just for the opportunity to hear Peter’s newest stories of his adventures. 

As Derek got older, his interests in Peter’s stories dwindled, but the dream of being allowed to travel and go anywhere always remained. He’d forgotten it for a while, following the year that effectively ruined his life. 

After he mercy killed his girlfriend, was manipulated by Kate Argent, and then watched most of his family burn to death, Derek had forgotten a lot of the things he used to dream about. He mostly focused on how to take his next step when it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He never would have survived it without Laura.

And then Laura didn’t even survive it.

When Derek and Laura had packed what little belongings they could and left, the plan was to never come back. But, after six years, Laura’s guilt at leaving their uncle behind had gotten the better of her, and she’d returned to California only to die by the hand of the man she’d returned for. 

Derek figured that was probably his fault too; if he’d never gotten involved with Kate, his family might still be alive, and he and Laura would never have left. Peter would never have felt betrayed, and never would have felt like he had to kill Laura. 

Derek might have drowned in his guilt if he hadn’t been thrown a life preserver in the form of a group of teenagers who gave him a purpose again. Scott McCall, the True Alpha, turned against his will and yet still unwilling to turn his back on the world. Stiles Stilinski, the human who fought beside his wolves reeking of fear but never showing it. Lydia Martin, the Banshee, the girl who was attacked and left for dead only to come back stronger, braver, and more capable. Malia Tate, the Werecoyote who survived for years on her own and faced down her own mother to retain her power.

There had been others, some whose names alone broke Derek’s heart. Jackson, his first failure, a wolf now forced to bear the same blue eyes Derek did. Erica, who died like she lived; fighting for every inch that she took. Boyd, whose life Derek took with his own claws, unable to stop it, unable to fight as hard for him as Boyd always had for Derek. Cora, the sister who had come back from the dead and disappeared again, unable to face the demons that still lived in Beacon Hills. Isaac, Allison, Kira, a group of teens who fought against the odds and crossed enemy lines to defend each other at any cost.

All of them, each and every one of them, individually meant the world to Derek, but only one of them had been there, repeatedly, in his darkest days. 

One of them had held Derek up in a pool for hours waiting out the metabolism of the Kanima venom. One of them had been brave enough to walk to Derek and touch him while his hands still dripped with Boyd’s blood. The plan to save him from Mexico, while executed by all of them, absolutely reeked of Stiles’ careful attention to detail and planning. 

Derek had never intended to _fall in love_ with Stiles, but Stiles hadn’t given him a choice. 

That potential future was lost now, lost to the whims of a chaos demon who saw a tool in Stiles’ blood and activated it with no regard for what would happen to the host. The Stiles they knew: funny, self-deprecating, doubtful, headstrong, _human_ Stiles, was gone. 

He was a siren now, a creature feared by most, hunted by many, and yet nearly impossible to kill. Had the Nogitsune chosen a weaker host, a lesser person, they would have had a monster on their hands. The power Stiles held was immense, the ability to change someone's will, to play god, would have been a disaster in the hands of anyone else. 

Instead, Stiles had retreated into himself, becoming a walking time-bomb of self-sacrifice and despair.

Derek knew that he _should_ be afraid of Stiles. Especially given his history, he should feel like Lydia does; violated and unsure, angry and hurt, but he doesn’t. He trusts Stiles, inexplicably and wholeheartedly. He would have taken Theo’s place in a heartbeat, if Stiles had asked, but he hadn’t. And while the idea of someone like Theo taking advantage of Stiles’ situation drove him mad, Derek had to accept that this was what he wanted; this was what Stiles had chosen.

And Derek knew self-hatred when he saw it. He knew what it was like to carry the weight of that guilt; to feel like you were the cause of everything burning down around you, and the only way to survive was to bottle it all up inside yourself and suffer in silence. He wanted to take that pain and anger away from Stiles before he turned into the person Derek had been a year and a half ago, but he couldn’t. 

He’d found a reason, a purpose, a way to heal. And he hoped that Stiles would do the same.

All Derek could do was be there, in whatever way Stiles would let him. 

\--

As weeks stretched into months away from home, his thoughts shifted from Stiles to the real reason he was in Europe. The person who had come to him asking for help, looking for a solution, a way to help her friend. 

Somewhere, during the days spent searching through genealogical records and historical archives for stories that sounded _off_ enough to suggest supernatural interference _,_ and nights spent in bars and clubs trying to find a way to forget his own demons, the beautiful banshee was never far from his thoughts. 

He almost always woke to texts from her. Usually, they were Stiles related, something to the effect of ‘today was okay, mostly stable, no issues.’ Sometimes they were pack-related, like the day that Scott had ended up biting another sophomore, some kid named Nolan who had befriended Liam and then been involved in a bad car wreck and nearly died. 

Occasionally, Lydia trusted him enough to drop her walls, and the texts reflected how useless she felt, how sad she was that she couldn’t do more, how afraid she was of Stiles and how guilty she felt about feeling scared. 

One night, just as he’d slipped into bed after a shower, ears still ringing from the too-loud club he’d spent hours in, his phone rang. He frowned at the time, it was nearly 4am in Greece, but back calculated it to almost 6pm in California. 

“Hello?”

“D-derek.”  
  
Derek shot up in bed, “Lydia, what happened? What’s wrong?” 

“I... I’m in the preserve.” She said, “I... there’s a body. I can’t... it’s been months. It’s been quiet for months. I can’t... I can’t do this again.” 

Derek exhaled slowly, “Did you call someone else before you called me?” He asked softly, “I can’t exactly get to you quickly.” 

“Scott and Malia are coming. Scott said something about contacting Argent and Parrish.” 

“Do you know who it is?” 

“No.”

“Can you tell how they died?” Derek tucked his legs into his chest, wrapping one of his arms around them, the other pressing his phone to his ear.

“Not without touching. There’s no... obvious wounds on the front of the body.”

“Are you safe?”

A chuckle on the other end of the line, “As safe as I ever am in this town.”  
  
Derek chewed on his lip for a minute, “Do you at least have clothes on?” 

Another laugh, which Derek considered a win, “Yes, thankfully I wasn’t at school naked.” 

“You know, this doesn’t have to mean there’s something in Beacon Hills.” Derek murmured, trying to keep his tone calm and even, though his protective instincts were on high alert, “Humans kill each other all the time. This doesn’t have to be a supernatural death.” 

“What if it is?” Hysteria seeped back into Lydia’s voice. “What if this just never ends? We graduate next month, Derek. What if this town doesn’t let us go?” 

“When you’re ready to go, you leave.” Derek replied, “Don’t let it hold you back, Lydia. You’re eighteen years old, it’s not your job to protect the entire town.”

“Scott thinks it is.”  
  
“Let it be Scott’s job then. I’ll help him, Peter will bitch about it but he’ll help. The Sheriff is still the Sheriff. You can go live your life. You don’t have to give it up because of all of this.” 

“He thinks he does.” Derek could hear the sob in Lydia’s voice. It wasn’t hard to extrapolate who ‘he’ was. “He got accepted to George Washington, and Berkeley and UC San Francisco. He’s not going. He says maybe next year.” 

Derek fell silent for a minute. “You are _not_ responsible for him either. You’re his friend, Lydia. I’m his friend. We can’t make decisions for him. All we can do is support him in the decisions he does make.” 

“If this is supernatural, will you come home and help us?” 

Lydia sounded impossibly young, impossibly scared, and so unlike herself that it shook Derek. Derek wondered if she meant the question his heart heard. _Will you come back and help_ **_me_** _?_  
  
“ _Lydia!_ ” Derek heard Scott in the background of Lydia’s call. 

“If you need me, you know I will.” He answered. “Stay safe, Lydia.” 

He slept like shit that night, but the next day, he found a siren.

\--

Somewhere in another timeline, if Lydia found herself in the middle of the Beacon Hills preserve sometime after school with no conscious memories of ever actually leaving the school, her first phone call would have been Stiles. 

Stiles, because he would have known what to do, who to call, how to make her feel like the world wasn’t crashing down around her. 

Stiles, because once she’d had the audacity to call the police before she called Stiles and he’d been legitimately hurt. 

Stiles, because despite that there were now two in-the-know members of law enforcement, the best person to quickly analyze the severity of the situation was still Stiles.

Instead, she’d called Scott. 

And then she’d called Derek and took comfort in the werewolf’s voice until Scott and Malia had arrived, with Chris Argent and Deputy Parrish also en-route to her location in the middle of the woods. 

At the end of the day, the death was ruled mundane, and Jordan took over from there, sending the pack and Argent home before he called in to the station to report a body found on the Preserve. 

Lydia had gone home numb, unbelievably relieved that it wasn’t some kind of supernatural presence on top of Stiles’ siren powers, the reasonably stable number of werewolves in Beacon Hills, and her own Banshee nature. She was relieved but also sad, Derek’s parting words ringing in her ears; _If you need me, you know I will_. 

That hadn’t always been the case, but it was now. It had to have been the middle of the night in Greece when she’d called and he’d answered on the second ring. He’d calmly assessed the situation and even stopped to inquire about her own wellbeing and safety. Derek had stepped up and done all the things Stiles would have done if she’d called him. She felt odd about it, both glad that she had Derek in her life and… like somehow in having him, she was betraying Stiles. 

The next day at school, she felt Stiles before she saw him, a thundering presence approaching her. She didn’t need to be a wolf to see the anger, the _hurt_ pouring off of him. Theo trailed behind him, grey-green eyes filled with worry and focused on Stiles.  
  
Stiles stopped next to her locker, and Lydia watched his jaw twitch as he tried to pick his words. Lydia didn’t miss the way Theo’s hand landed on Stiles’ shoulder, and the fact that Stiles didn’t pull away. He blinked a few times, shaking his head slowly. 

“I miss you.” He said finally, and Lydia felt tears prick in the back of her eyes not having expected those to be his first words. “I miss my friend. I’m _sorry_ for what I did. I didn’t mean it and I really hope you know that.”

“It’s not that.” Lydia said quickly, realizing how poorly she’d judged the situation. He thought she was still mad because he’d kissed her, that she was still angry because he’d used his thrall on her. She sighed, “I’m sorry too.” 

“You could have called me after Scott.” Stiles said, his lips pressed into a thin hard line, hands clenched into fists. “Or just... I don’t know, texted me? I had to find out from Malia.” 

“It wasn’t supernatural.” Lydia said quickly, “It was nothing, Stiles."

“A banshee finding a body isn’t _nothing_.” Stiles hissed, his eyes flickering between anger and sadness faster than Lydia could keep up. “And I could have helped. I’m not…” He glanced at Theo quickly, “I’m doing better now. I’m more in control.” 

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” Lydia whispered, looking down at the floor. “I’m… I’m more affected by you. Subconsciously. I can’t resist like the… _others_ can. I’m attracted to you and I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Lydia had been expecting heartbreak, maybe even a little regret that these feelings had developed at such an inopportune time, but instead, she got anger. 

“You... so, you’re attracted to me, and that’s why you’re avoiding me? I don’t get it...You can be attracted to someone and still be their friend, Lydia. I’d know.” He laughed bitterly, “You didn’t think to tell me so that maybe I didn’t think you _hated_ me?” He huffed and roughly shouldered Theo out of his way and then stalked off, his back straight and tense with fists clenched by his sides in barely contained rage. 

Lydia looked up at Theo, “I…” But she was at a loss for words, shocked into silence by Stiles’ impassioned reaction.

Theo shrugged one of his shoulders and pressed his lips together in an uncomfortable facsimile of a smile, “I’m gonna go make sure he’s okay.” 

Lydia didn’t watch him leave, leaning heavily up against her locker and carefully steeling herself, blinking back the tears and frustration. She pulled her phone out and flicked to Derek’s message thread. 

To: Derek  
 _Call me when you can._

It didn’t occur to her until much later that Derek never called her.

\--

Stiles slammed out the back doors of the school, making a bee-line for the bleachers next to the lacrosse field. For weeks, no, months now, he’d assumed that Lydia was avoiding him because of what had happened in his father’s office. 

He’d thought she was terrified of him, terrified that Stiles was going to use his thrall to seduce and take advantage of her. He’d spent so many months hating himself for a half-conscious decision that he hadn’t even bothered to stop and think.

He and Theo had progressed, after the masturbation session that Theo had boldly interrupted, from occasional thrall orders to regular sexual encounters. They were always discussed beforehand, Theo laying out exactly what he was okay with. And it worked, as much as Stiles hated to admit it, using his thrall in the way it was intended worked much better to satiate the need within him. And the sex with Theo was _better_ than it had any right to be. 

And despite the work he was putting into controlling himself around everyone, including Theo, apparently none of that mattered because Lydia didn’t know if she could trust _herself_ around Stiles. 

Stiles felt Theo’s approach, attuned to the werewolf’s habits but also his psychic signature; something Stiles hadn’t even realized he could pick up on until recently. He barely let the werewolf turn the corner before he was shoving Theo back against the bleachers, their mouths pressed together in a crushing kiss, hands destroying whatever attempt at a style Theo had put in his hair this morning. 

Stiles let the kiss continue even as Theo’s hips were shoved into his, both of them breathing hard as they rocked against one another. It wasn’t until Theo was down on his knees, hands on Stiles’ belt that Stiles realized what had happened. 

“ **Stop.** ” He said quickly, stepping back away from Theo, who was blinking away the residual of the silent and tactile thrall Stiles had unintentionally used.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Stiles said, his shaking hand pressed over his mouth, horrified.

Theo stood up, wiping dirt and leaves from his jeans. “It’s fine, Stiles.” He said, face back in a smug mask, “I knew you were going to be upset when I came out here.”

“I…” Stiles shook his head, “No, I can’t believe I did that. We almost… you would have…” 

“If you think I’m morally opposed to sucking your dick because we’re on school property, you’re wildly mistaken.” Theo grinned. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.” 

Stiles felt sick and angry with himself, and so overwhelmed with everything. Lydia’s reasoning for avoiding him, his own blatantly non-consensual use of his powers on Theo, and then Theo’s cavalier and nonchalant attitude about the whole thing. He couldn’t take this, he felt like he was going to break at any second. 

He shook his head, “I’m going home.” He said, backing away from the werewolf, who looked confused and ready to stop him. 

“ **Don’t follow me**.” 

Stiles barely made it home before the panic attack took over and he collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Contact: It's between Stiles (a siren...) and Theo. Theo initiates it and gives his enthusiastic consent, but be aware if dub con is a trigger for you at all.
> 
> Panic Attack: There's mentions of Stiles having a panic attack towards the end of this chapter. It's pretty minor (not explicitly described), but if this is a trigger for you, this is your heads up that there's a bigger one in the next chapter. 
> 
> As always: 
> 
> Tumblr links!  
> [tiniestawoo (thosewhofall) ](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/)  
> [impractical_matters](https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com)


	4. The Call of the Angriest Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> We're getting close to the end now, so we hope you're ready! 
> 
> General warning: 
> 
> Please be aware that there is description of a panic attack in this chapter. There's more details in the end notes, but if this is a trigger for you, it may be a good idea to check the notes or skip the scene.
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you all for reading and reviewing! As always, tumblr links in the end notes! 
> 
> Enjoy!

As the mid-April showers soaked Northern California outside of her car, Lydia stared down at her phone, flicking idly between her messages and phone apps. She’d heard nothing from Derek for the last five days. Peter hadn’t heard anything either, but he had assured her that he’d reach out to some contacts in Europe and see if anyone could locate his wayward nephew. She’d heard nothing back from him since.

Short of flying to Greece herself to track Derek down, there was little else Lydia could do but wait and worry. Derek was a strong capable werewolf; he was a fighter and a survivor. 

And he’d promised to come back if she needed him.

Since Lydia fought with him, Stiles had dramatically reversed all of his improved courses of action. He was avoiding all of them again. Lydia had barely seen him over the last few months anyway, but the absences - at lunch and the weekly pack meetings, felt heavy, foreboding. 

Theo had been kicked out of the Stilinski guest room and was currently crashing at the ‘McCall Home for Wayward Werewolves,’ otherwise known as the extra bedroom at the McCall’s. Scott only saw Stiles at lacrosse practice, and even then, apparently Stiles was barely speaking to him. 

They knew, courtesy of some coerced spying by the puppy pack, who seemed to grate Stiles’ nerves less, that he spent his lunches in the library, tucked into the corner, alone. He looked like shit, dark circles under his eyes and exhaustion evident in his every move. According to the Sheriff, he came home, and went immediately to his bedroom, emerging only to eat something or spend time with his father. Noah had asked Stiles about his behavior, but apparently Stiles didn’t want to talk about it.

For those that had seen it, it was like the Nogitsune all over again; a ghost of their friend possessed by a creature who didn’t care about the toll it took on the host. 

It was only a matter of time now before Stiles lost the internal battle with his nature. If he wasn’t seeing anyone but his father -- who was impervious to thrall -- he was going to be drowning with the need to use it, and all of them, Lydia, Scott, Malia and even Theo, were afraid of what would happen when Stiles gave in. 

Which left Lydia sitting in her car in the parking lot of the animal clinic, waiting for the rain to die down so she could head in and to speak with Dr. Deaton. He clearly knew more about sirens than he’d shared at training nearly three months ago. He seemed confident in his assessment that sirens were dangerous, and at this point, Lydia needed information however she could get it - Derek’s radio silence only exacerbated the anxiety already brewing. 

She gave up on waiting out the rain and hurried inside, waiting patiently for the vet to round the corner, his expression souring as he did. 

“Miss Martin.” He greeted her coolly, eyes assessing.

Lydia gave him a small, friendly smile, “Dr. Deaton, I hope you’ve been well.” 

“As well as can be.” Deaton raised an eyebrow, “You don’t have Prada with you, so I assume you’re here regarding something else.” 

Lydia nodded, “We need your help.”  
  
Deaton studied her, “With Mr. Stilinski, or is there another problem in Beacon Hills?” 

Lydia tried to ignore the implication that Stiles was a problem. It stung, but it was true; Stiles was a problem. 

“It’s about Stiles.” 

“Well, let’s speak somewhere more private then.” Deaton opened the mountain ash gate that guarded the back of his clinic and waved her through.

They settled in his office, Deaton in his desk chair, and Lydia across the desk from him. Lydia had only seen the office a handful of times, but knowing now what to look for, she saw the small collection of magical artifacts, the Latin titles on the spines of old books. She clasped her hands together and returned her gaze to the vet. 

“How can I help you today, Lydia?” Deaton asked, his hands steepled, elbows resting on his desk. 

“Stiles is… not doing well.” She said carefully, “He’s hiding himself away and avoiding contact with everyone. Our best guess is that he’s afraid of hurting someone, but none of us know how to help him. Derek’s been in Greece for months, Peter and I have looked as far into sirens as we can from here, but we’ve come up with nothing. We know what he can do, what he’s weak to, and how to kill him, but nothing about how we could help him be less... dangerous.” 

Deaton nodded slowly, his face a mask of indifference, “I know you want to save your friend, but I’m afraid that I don’t know anything more about sirens than you do at this point. I know they’re vicious, dangerous creatures, and I too know how to destroy them.”

“Is there anyone you could contact? Maybe to find some kind of ritual to make some of us immune to him, or to dampen his need to use his thrall.” Lydia sighed, “Scott and Stiles are like brothers. He’s one of my best friends. This isn't his fault. We want to help him, not destroy him.”

Deaton considered for a moment, studying Lydia’s face. “I can make some calls, and see what I can find that might help. It’ll take some time, and I make no promises.” His lips quirked up into a ghost of a friendly smile. “I’ll contact you or Scott if I find something.”

“Thank you.” Lydia said, standing up to leave the office. 

“Lydia.” Deaton called, and she stopped and turned to face him, “You and Scott don’t want to destroy Stiles, but perhaps it’s time to start thinking about what you _are_ willing to sacrifice to save him.” 

Lydia felt a cold chill run down her back at his words. She gave a brief nod and then hurried out of the clinic, checking her phone only to be disappointed once again by no new messages. She briefly texted Scott a summary of their interaction and then locked her phone, staring in silence at the raindrops as they streamed down her windshield. 

Faces danced across her memory; Jackson. Allison. Aiden. Erica. Boyd.

Hadn’t they sacrificed enough already?

\--

Over the last week, since Stiles had unintentionally used his thrall to coerce Theo behind the bleachers, Stiles had kept to a very strict routine. 

He got up in the morning, ate breakfast, arrived at school with exactly enough time to stop at his locker and get to first period. He did not linger in the hallways; he grabbed his books, and dodged anyone who tried to speak with him. At lunch he hid out in the back of the library, not bothering to eat because it didn’t matter. Hunger, actual, physical hunger, didn’t compare to the raw aching _need_ inside him. He didn’t touch anyone, didn’t say anything to anyone who wasn’t his dad, and did his best not to even _think_ around anyone. 

It was a harder plan to execute than he’d expected. Every minute of his day all he could think about was the nearly-painful pit of need in his gut that was threatening to boil-over, and the voice in the back of his head urging him to _sing_. 

He shoved it down as he laced up his cleats, already dressed for practice and otherwise ignoring Scott’s prying gaze, as well as the concerned glances from Liam, Corey and Nolan. 

They’d all learned their lesson at the last practice. Scott had tried to talk to Stiles, only to be met with a murderous glare and Stiles stomping out of the locker room with his crosse clenched in white-knuckled hands. The puppies had tried to include him in jokes or banter, only for him to stalk to the opposite end of the practice field.

Yet, something felt different today; despite Stiles’ best attempt at exuding ‘leave me alone’ body language, all four of them seemed to sense that Stiles felt... unsettled. Scott’s looks had grown progressively more concerned throughout the day, and Nolan, Corey and Liam attempted to be discreet about their quiet chatter with each other, but they were unsuccessful.

Stiles wanted to be left _alone_ and he didn’t understand why that was so fucking hard for them to understand. He wasn’t a wolf, he wasn’t bound by the need for a pack. He was a siren, a solitary creature that entranced unknowing seamen and lured them to their eventual death. Stiles was done playing along, he _refused_ to lure anyone else in - accidental or otherwise. 

Lacrosse practice helped, if minimally. Taking out his anger and frustration with mindless aggression wasn’t nearly enough to make a dent, but the human part of Stiles still appreciated it. After one particularly pointed hit to Corey, the invisibility shifter landing with his breath knocked out of him, Nolan, the newest of Scott’s pups, braced both of his hands on Stiles’ chest.

“What the fuck, man?” 

Stiles kept his mouth clenched, jaw ticking with rage. He turned to walk away but Nolan kept a tight grip on his shirt. 

“Don’t just walk away! You’ve been a jackass all week. I know you and Theo are having some kind of lovers quarrel but seriously man, you really need to get laid.” 

Stiles closed his eyes, drawing in a few long breaths as the anger loosened his ironclad grip on his control. Friendly jeering rose up around him, the team agreeing with Nolan’s assessment. Scott’s voice was notably absent from the banter, but Stiles could hear Liam’s nervous chuckle. 

“ **Get the fuck away from me.** ” He said, pushing the order out silently too, opening his eyes to stare at Nolan, whose hands quickly dropped away, face falling neutral. 

“ **Everyone just leave me the fuck alone**.” 

Stiles turned to stalk away from the lacrosse team, only to watch as Coach, the entire team and any spectators headed away from the field, silent and emotionless. Energy surged into Stiles as his thrall leaked out, taking control of everyone around him, the herd of them leaving, the mundane and supernatural alike.

Stiles caught Scott’s eye for a moment as the alpha headed away, face blank, but his eyes full of fear and concern.

Stiles broke his gaze and stared at the ground, hands shaking where they gripped his crosse. When the field was empty he threw the stick down with a shout, stripping his gloves off to angrily run his hands through his hair. 

The need in his chest wasn’t completely satiated, but it had eased off enough that Stiles felt like he could breathe again. He hated how much better he felt in that moment. He hated the sick pleasure he felt from unleashing his thrall that he’d been trying so desperately to keep locked safely inside of himself. And yet, the fleeting pleasure of release left nothing but a vacant bitter taste behind. 

He glanced around the empty field, angry tears springing into his eyes. He was alone because he’d used his thrall to push everyone away like he’d been wanting to all week. He knew he had been fighting a losing battle, and now look at what he’d done. 

_Oh god._ He’d used his thrall on an _entire field_ of innocent people. 

His chest continued to tighten in panic as he stared at his hands and the bare field, breath coming in a shallow, too-fast pattern that left spots dotting across his vision.

He was going to be alone forever. He was going to lose everything, all because of that fucking chaos demon, and its desire to wreak havoc everywhere it went. 

He was turning into a monster, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

\--

Theo was sitting at a table in the library with Malia, aimlessly staring at his textbook when Scott frantically entered, still dressed in his gear, leaving specks of dirt on the clean floor behind him. Malia furrowed her eyebrows and tapped at her phone to pull up the time. 

“Didn’t practice just start?” 

Scott came barreling toward them, the nerves and worry radiated off the Alpha, infecting both of them almost instantly. 

“Theo.” Scott said, dropping into the chair next to Malia. “He just used his thrall on _everyone_.” 

Theo blinked a few times, cocking his head to the side, “What?” 

“On the field. He was being rough and he tackled Corey kinda hard, and Nolan made some shitty comments and Stiles just… snapped.” Scott sounded distressed and also impossibly sad by what he just witnessed. His face was buried in his hands, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”  
  
“He used his thrall on _how many_ people?” Theo asked, eyebrows pulling together. “Like, simultaneously?”

“Maybe… like thirty total? It affected _everyone_ nearby. I’ve never seen him use it like _that_ before.” Scott looked up at him with an uncertain desperation, “I know that you didn’t sign up to be his _friend_ , that you’re just supposed to be his…”

“Punching bag,” Malia offered.

“His punching bag.” Scott sighed, “But, you know how all this works better than any of us. You’ve spent the most time with him in the last few months. Whatever you two were doing before… it was working. He looked healthier. He was almost himself again. I don’t know what changed a week ago but… we’ve got to do something. We have to help him.”

Theo stared at the book in front of him. “I know what changed.” He murmured, closing the book before looking across the table at Scott and Malia. “I’ll go find him and see if he’ll talk to me.” He quickly got up and left the table, headed for the library doors. 

“Thank you.” Scott said, his tone even, but plenty loud to be picked up by the Beta’s ears. Theo raised a hand in acknowledgement but kept walking. 

Scott was right, he hadn’t signed up to be Stiles’ friend. When he first decided to make this deal to selfishly save himself, he hadn’t had any idea how the next few months of his life were going to turn out. Compared to being a ward of the Doctors, having to deal with Stiles’ thrall was a walk in the park. On bad days, he still had a roof over his head and a safe place to sleep at night; and there was nobody asking him to kill or torture people. 

On good days, what he and Stiles had was the closest thing to a normal relationship that Theo had ever experienced. They rode to school together, hung out at lunch, talked about books and T.V. shows and video games. They slept together to keep Stiles in check, and sometimes when Theo felt particularly ambitious, he’d even dare to kiss Stiles in public. He had enjoyed learning the difference between Stiles’ actual annoyed face and the fond roll of his eyes he sometimes got in response.

It became less of a chore and more something he actually _wanted_ to do. Somewhere along the way, Theo had actually started to _care_ about him. He didn’t even know he _could_ care about someone. He thought those particular sentimental emotions had died with his sister and parents.

The realization hit him hard as he burst out the doors of the school, jogging towards the lacrosse field. When he caught the scent of Stiles and saw him curled into himself on the field, it threw all of his instincts into high alert. Once he got closer, he could hear his pounding heartbeat and the rapid pace of his breathing. He was grasping at his chest, eyes pinched shut until Theo was right in front of him when they snapped open.

Theo knew what was happening before he even got that close, the scent of Stiles’ panic burned into the recesses of his memory.

Theo dropped to his knees, grabbing Stiles by his shoulders. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Stiles struggled to keep his eyes open. “Breathe, Stiles.” 

Stiles shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he tried feebly to push the werewolf away; the familiar scent of Stiles’ shame and guilt surrounded them in a thick fog. 

Theo rolled his eyes and ignored Stiles’ attempts; he leaned in pressing his lips against the Siren’s and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shaking shoulders, pulling him in close against his chest. Theo listened and waited for his breathing to slow, keeping his own nerves in check so his breathing was a careful, constant rhythm for Stiles to match. He pulled away after a moment, staring at him.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re the most vulnerable around me.” There was no weight of any kind behind Stiles’ voice, the Siren exhausted, leaning back against the circle of Theo’s arms, both of them on their knees in the dirt of the field. “Why are you here?”

Theo studied Stiles’ exhausted, scared and heartbroken face, a mirror of the one Scott had worn in the library, for a long moment and sighed. 

“Listen to me. I don’t care about the power that you have, okay? And I certainly don’t care that I’m ‘vulnerable’ to your thrall.” Theo made half-assed air quotes, refusing to let go of Stiles. 

”I don’t care that we made out and I was going to blow you behind the bleachers without talking about it first. I just care about _you_ , and about this, about what we have. I care about spending time with you, and getting to know little details about you. And what I care about the most is the fact that I’ve learned more about you in the last three months than I’ve ever learned about anyone in my whole life, and that was _my_ choice.”

“Theo, please, I can’t do this. Nothing good can come of this; I’m only going to hurt you.” Stiles’ voice broke as a new wave of tears crashed over him. “I’m going to hurt you like I hurt everyone else, or maybe even worse than everyone else.”

“Don’t you get it? Yes, you could have, and yet somehow, you’ve _never_ hurt me, Stiles. Even when this first started and you hated me, even when you wanted nothing to do with me, you didn’t hurt me. You could have told me to jump off a cliff and I would have had no choice. You could have had me doing every embarrassing, humiliating stunt you could think of, but you didn’t. You’ve never pushed past what we had planned when we were having sex. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have by now.” 

“This was supposed to be a punishment.” Stiles wiped tears away with the back of his hand, “You weren’t supposed to like this.” He whispered.

“Jokes on them.” Theo replied, dropping his tone to match, smirking, “Is it really a punishment if I’m into it? If I’m into you?” 

Stiles closed his eyes and dropped his head against Theo’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t believe you, but...” He laughed, a dark, quiet sound, “You’re a liar and a murderer, so why do I believe you?”

“I’m reformed.” Theo smirked into Stiles’ temple, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You believe me because you’re the one who taught me the error of my ways.” 

Stiles snorted, lifting his face and meeting Theo’s eyes with a serious stare. 

“What do you get out of this?” He asked just like he had months ago. “ **Tell me the truth.** ”

“You.” Theo answered honestly as the order washed over him. “I get you, Stiles. I had nothing before, but at least now I have _you_.” 

The kiss Stiles gave him after that was one of the best of Theo’s entire life.

\--

The day after Stiles’ incident on the lacrosse field, which had left everyone not-in-the-know incredibly confused, things went more-or-less back to normal. 

Stiles was still quieter than usual, and still put himself at the far end of the table from Lydia, but he seemed settled once again. He was more openly affectionate with Theo, accepted the apology Scott forced Nolan to give him, and the overwhelming aura of desire and attraction that had followed him for the last week seemed to have faded back to manageable levels.

And so, naturally, as soon as the situation seemed to have been resolved, Deaton found his own solution. 

After school, Lydia, Scott and Malia headed for Deaton’s vet clinic; Theo and Stiles were meeting them there. When they arrived, the parking lot was empty aside from Deaton’s car and Stiles’ jeep. 

Lydia sighed and turned to Scott. “What do you think he found?” 

Scott shrugged, “He didn’t say exactly, just that he found some kind of ritual.”

Malia poked her head up from the back seat, “Do you think he’s going to knock Stiles out again?” 

“Hopefully not.” Lydia answered, glancing at her reflection in the rear-view, “We need Stiles conscious for this.” 

“Whatever he found, whatever it is, it will still be his decision.” Scott announced, “I know this has been rough on all of us, but it’s his life. We’re going to support him in whatever it is he decides he wants to do.”  
  
Lydia begrudgingly agreed and climbed out of the car, heading into the clinic. Stiles and Theo came around once Scott was out. Theo appeared on high alert, a possessive hand low on Stiles’ back even as the Siren turned to crack a joke at Scott, drawing a laugh from him. God, she really missed that. Even if Stiles had driven her mad, she missed feeling at ease around him. If Deaton had found something that could dampen the thrall, dampen her endless attraction to Stiles, maybe she could go back to that.

It was clear from the recent developments that a romantic avenue with Stiles -- even if one had been open to her -- was now closed. Theo, for all his murderous, manipulative ways, did seem to genuinely have Stiles’ best interests at his undersized heart. And it was impossible to ignore how much better Stiles looked when he wasn’t holding himself back, when _whatever_ they did was enough to help Stiles feel like himself again.

Lydia sighed and checked her phone, flicking to the messages app. 

To: Derek  
_Please call me. I need you to be okay._

The group convened in the examination room, the only one large enough to hold the six of them comfortably. Deaton had a large book, written almost entirely in Greek characters in the center of the metal table, next to a series of handwritten pages. Deaton eyed Stiles warily, and Theo kept his murderous blue gaze on the Druid the whole time, his body minutely in front of Stiles, between the vet and the Siren.  
  
If it was anyone else, it might have been cute. 

Deaton finally tore his eyes from Stiles and his guard-wolf and brought their attention to the book to explain what he’d found. 

“After long and extensive research, I believe I have found a ritual that would allow Stiles to internally bind his thrall. This ritual would effectively extract a small fragment of Stiles’ thrall, use magic to manipulate it, and then return it to him. Essentially, he would be using his own thrall on himself to contain his siren nature.” 

“So kind of like Stiles is Ariel, and you’re Ursula?” Malia offered. Stiles turned to her with a bright grin and winked. 

Deaton looked mildly amused, “That would be a vast simplification, but I suppose you could use that as an analogy. We would be modifying the basis of the compulsion that fuels the Siren thrall, in order to ensure he cannot produce more of it.” 

“This sounds too easy.” Theo said, arms crossed over his chest. “If it was this easy to disarm a siren, why haven’t more people done it?” 

“The Siren has to give up their thrall willingly.” Deaton answered, “The ritual would be ineffective without the consent of the Siren. I cannot verify the validity of this ritual; unfortunately we wouldn’t know the final outcome until after the ritual concluded.”

All eyes fell on Stiles. Stiles glanced at Theo for a long moment before his gaze crossed the room to meet Lydia’s, “Do I have to decide right now?” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To not have to use your thrall anymore?” Scott looked to Stiles. “Obviously, you can totally take some time and think about it, but maybe this could fix everything and this could all be over!”

“Or it could go horribly wrong.” Theo rolled his eyes, “There’s probably a reason most sirens don’t participate in this ritual.” 

“Do you think it would work?” Stiles asked, flicking honey-brown eyes across the room to Deaton. “Do you trust your ability to perform the ritual?” 

Deaton met Stiles’ gaze with a small smile, “I think this is the best solution available. And yes, I do trust my abilities.”

Stiles nodded. “I’ll think about it.” He glanced down, “I’m just… finally figuring this all out. Last week was bad, but I think…” He turned to Theo with a small, private smile, “I think I might be okay. But yeah, I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Take all the time you need, Stiles.” Deaton tucked the handwritten pages away inside the book. “After all, the ritual does require _your_ _consent_ to work.”

\--

Theo had been occasionally sleeping in Stiles’ room again, and the evening after the meeting at Deaton’s was one such night. Stiles laid on his back in the center of the bed with Theo curled against one of his sides, the werewolf’s head over his chest. One of Stiles’ hands mindlessly stroked through his hair, fluffy without product and softer than Stiles had imagined it. 

A lot of things about Theo were softer than Stiles had imagined. The past year of terror and fear had built up an image of the perfect villain; manipulative, cold-hearted, singularly focused on getting what he wanted without any care or concern for the damage he left in his wake. 

Stiles knew that Theo was _capable_ of all that, but he also knew there was a gentler side to him. That side paid attention to exactly how Stiles liked his eggs, and the temperature Stiles liked the water to be if they shared a shower. In the middle of the night when he would wake up from a nightmare, it was that side of Theo that would be there to calm him down before his father even knew to be worried. 

Theo could use all of those skills of observation for good too, and it sometimes felt like a privilege to see behind the facade of the untouchable bad guy. 

While he definitely cared more than he’d expected to, it would be an overstatement to say that Stiles _trusted_ Theo unconditionally; and he definitely wouldn’t go so far as to use any crazy words like ‘love’ to describe what was going on between them. 

And yet, there was now a general feeling of comfort whenever Theo was around. Theo trusted Stiles not to hurt him, and that trust had helped Stiles feel like maybe he could trust himself again; Stiles hoped like hell he wouldn’t live that down. Theo’s presence kept Stiles sane, and even though it still sometimes felt like a business arrangement, there were glimpses that it might possibly be something _more_. 

Stiles sighed, pressing his lips against the top of Theo’s head before staring back up at his ceiling. A part of him wondered how much of this would remain if he was no longer a siren.

The lines seemed to be drawn. Scott seemed to be on his side regardless, strong enough to resist residual thrall, and dedicated enough to work with Stiles to find a solution. Derek and Lydia were very clearly uncomfortable with the siren parts of him, with good reason. His relationship with Theo, on the other hand, seemed dependent on thrall and seduction. 

If he did the ritual, he might get Derek and Lydia back, but lose Theo.

If he didn’t do the ritual, Theo might end up being all he had. 

The decision was more difficult than it should have been, but the next morning, instead of heading to school, he drove separately from Theo and stopped by the clinic.

When Deaton rounded the corner, his eyes widened with surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” 

“I want to do the ritual.” Stiles said, his voice steady even if his heart wasn’t. “I didn’t ask for this. I have to try to fix it somehow.” 

Deaton gave him a tight smile, “I think you’re making the right choice.” He glanced at the calendar, tacked to the wall. Stiles could see the phases of the moon drawn stylistically, in black ink. “The new moon would probably be best. A place of power, too, like the Nemeton would be convenient. Do you think you could find it again?” 

Stiles nodded. 

Deaton gave a brief nod of his own, “Good. Let’s aim for midnight on the next full moon, in three days.” The Druid studied Stiles’ face in a way that made him want to hide. “I’m sure your friends will be thankful when this is all over.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles replied, “See you then.” 

He gave a half-hearted wave and headed out of the clinic. It wasn’t until he was almost at the school that he realized that Deaton had never come out beyond the mountain ash gate. 

\--

Lydia’s phone rang at 5am, startling her from sleep. She grabbed for it, wiping at her eyes as she answered. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.” 

She went from half-asleep to wide awake in a second. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.” 

Derek chuckled on the other end of the line. “Sorry to worry you. Turns out there isn’t reception out on some of the barrier islands.” 

Lydia’s heart sank. “You found a siren?”

“I found several.” Derek sounded immensely pleased with himself and it brought a smile to Lydia’s face. “And, actually, being in contact with Stiles is probably the only reason I’m alive right now.” 

“Hmm?” Lydia frowned. “What do you mean?”

“So, typically, sirens live either alone, or in family groups. A siren generally has no reason to use their thrall more than once on a given victim, but if someone does manage to survive three uses of thrall, they’re bound to that siren.”

“Like a pack bond?” 

“Sort of similar. But, because Stiles had used his thrall on me a few times, I was protected from the thrall of the other sirens. It really pissed off the first one I found.”

Lydia giggled, “Yeah, I can imagine. She probably wanted to eat you up.” 

“In more ways than one.” Derek’s voice went sour. “But I’ve spent the last 10 days with them, asking as many questions as I could.”

Lydia paused for a second. “I hate to say this, but I think we found something too. Or well, Deaton did.” 

Silence buzzed on Derek’s end of the line, “Deaton proposed something?”

“A ritual, to use Stiles’ thrall to bind away the Siren within him.” Lydia said, “I’m not sure if Stiles is going to do it or not, but it could give him a chance to be himself again.”

“Lydia, listen to me.” Derek’s tone was suddenly very serious. “Do not let him go through with that ritual.”

“What? Why?”

“Sirens have a long history with druids. A siren shouldn’t be affected by thrall themselves, so however he wants to do this, it’s going to have to change Stiles’ magic fundamentally.” 

Lydia’s heart was in her throat and she sucked in a long breath. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“There are more ways this could go wrong than right. The best case is Stiles being driven crazy by repeated attacks by his own magic.”

Hot tears spill out of Lydia’s eyes, “The worst case?” 

“He dies.” The urgency was clear, “Do not let Stiles do that ritual, Lydia. _Please_. I’ll get on a plane as soon as I can, but you cannot let him go through with it.”  
  
“Scott said it’s his decision, and you know Scott trusts Deaton. I was the one who asked Deaton for help. This is my fault.” Her voice shook with worry. 

“Lydia.” Derek’s voice pulled her attention away from her anguish. “Nothing has happened yet. Talk to Stiles, tell him what I just told you. You’re his friend. He’ll trust you. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. There’s still time to stop this.” There was rustling on Derek’s end. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Lydia dropped the phone, staring at it, the horror washing over her as the first rays of sunlight peeked through her window. 

Nothing to be sorry for. _Yet_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic Attack: Stiles has a panic attack after accidentally losing control of his thrall on a large group of people. 
> 
> (Also we'd say sorry for the cliffhanger, but we aren't sorry at all!! One more chapter to go!)
> 
> As always, we'd love to hear from you!!
> 
> Tumblr links!  
> [tiniestawoo](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/)  
> [impractical_matters](https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com)


	5. Threaten to Send Me Over the Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are y'all! We made it to the end of Part 2! 
> 
> There are no additional warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> Please check out the end notes for more info about the 3rd Part of this series! 
> 
> And as always, we would love to hear your thoughts when it's all over!

Stiles couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the ritual was going to take away from him. Not everything about being a siren was bad; the invulnerability and psychic awareness were kinda cool. He’d probably miss the ability to detect people by their psychic signatures if he lost it. It came in handy for not being spooked by the sudden and silent arrival of werewolves, or in today’s case, the unexpected arrival of a banshee at his locker the day before the new moon. 

“We need to talk about the ritual.” 

Stiles raised his eyebrows and closed his locker, turning to face Lydia. “Oh, are we pretending we’re friends again? Sorry, I missed that memo.” 

Lydia pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, “I’m sorry, okay, I’ve been so distracted trying to figure this out that I’ve been a terrible friend, but you need to listen to me, Stiles. This is important. I finally heard back from Derek, and he said-”

“Award for the worst apology goes to you.” Stiles threw a set of sarcastic finger guns her way, and pressed his lips into a disappointed line. “Lydia. This is my decision. I know that you’re uncomfortable with me being a siren, I _know_ that you’re nervous around me, but it’s my life, okay?” He gave her a sad smile, “Maybe if I go through with it, we’ll finally be able to be friends again, but I have to make this decision for myself.” 

The bittersweet part about being a siren? He could _feel_ her frustration - sexual and otherwise - as he headed towards his next class. 

Stiles avoided Lydia for the rest of the day, and skipped the pack meeting that night under the pretense of ‘thinking about his decision.’ His phone had blown up after that text, so after messaging his dad that he was in for the night, he turned off his phone. 

A part of him wanted to go to Deaton and take it all back, tell the Druid that he’d changed his mind and wanted to keep things as they were. The other part of him, the part that remembered Derek’s confusion, Lydia’s heartbreak and even Scott’s hesitation to touch him, was screaming that something needed to change. 

He missed his friends. He missed hanging out with Scott and Lydia and even Derek whenever he had time for them. He missed being around people and not having to monitor his every thought and desire. He missed not having to worry about casually touching his friends, offering people comfort when they were upset, being a hand to hold when things got scary. He was supposed to be the pack’s human, a tether to their humanity, a reminder of what was at stake. That was what he was good at.

As a siren all he offered them was fear.

Stiles looked up when there was a knock on his door. “Come in.” He called, closing out of the tabs on his laptop and shutting it, turning in the desk chair to face Theo. “How was the meeting?”

Theo looked strangely pensive, and his tongue traced his bottom lip before he spoke, his tone careful, hesitant; “Lydia says-” 

“ **Stop**.” Stiles shook his head, the werewolf’s jaw closing with a click. “If you were about to say something about Lydia’s opinion on me doing the ritual, I really don’t want to talk about it tonight. And I really didn’t expect you to be willing to play messenger for them.” 

Theo clenched his jaw, eyes closing for a moment. Stiles could almost feel his efforts to fight the thrall. Theo’s eyes opened after a moment, “I’m not playing messenger _for them_. There’s a chance it could go wrong.” He said finally. “Deaton didn’t give you all the-”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “ **Go to bed,** Theo.” He shook his head, “I haven’t even decided if I’m doing it yet. I don’t want to talk about it, it’s my decision.” 

Theo frowned but spun to leave the room, his body following the order his mind so clearly didn’t want to. One of his hands latched onto the door-frame tightly, and with effort he turned back to look at Stiles. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m not sure what happens to me if the ritual works, but I can guarantee it will be worse than whatever this is. If my opinion means anything to you, I’d rather you stay the way you are.” His hand unclenched from the door-frame and Stiles heard him heading into his own bedroom. 

“This was supposed to be a punishment, remember.” Stiles said, knowing full well Theo could hear him. 

Three months ago, Stiles might have been able to imagine that Theo wouldn’t have given a shit about Stiles’ choices here. Stiles being a siren had kept Theo out of a body bag or an underground prison; he’d been a convenient alternative. It made sense he’d oppose changes to his new status quo for that reason alone.

Theo’s words on the field echoed in Stiles’ head as he tried to sleep.

 _I_ _get you, Stiles. I had nothing before, but at least now I have you._

All Stiles could really do was hope that whatever the outcome of the next day was didn’t spur Theo into a _literal_ murderous rage. 

\--

When Derek had left for Greece, almost three months ago, the goal of his trip had been to seek out and find sirens. Sirens didn’t have any reason to stay tethered to Greece nowadays, but given their rarity, it seemed logical to go back to the location where he and Peter had previously found the most accurate information, and begin the search there. 

And naturally, at the most inopportune time, Derek had found them. The three sirens were siblings, and centuries old. The eldest, Nefeli, had been the one to approach Derek in a bar, frustrated when her attempts at seduction failed repeatedly. Derek had been the one to pick out the salty-sweetness of her scent and recognized it for what it was. Nefeli had invited Derek back to the island where she lived with her siblings, and there, they told stories of a time long ago.

It had brought back memories of nights reading, studying for his degree in classics at NYU, a period of time in his memory he’d thought was gone. Derek had collected their stories, written them all down, making careful notes when they mentioned weaknesses or enemies. He’d compiled it all, mostly for Stiles, but also for himself, and the future of his family. It would seem that Sirens made for better friends than foes, though the common lore he and Peter had found told the opposite tale.

And then of course, fresh off the high of having _finally_ found what he was searching for, he’d been dragged back to earth when he learned that Deaton had come up with some kind of possibly self-destructive ritual to bind away Stiles’ siren nature.

After ten days with Nefeli and her siblings, the very concept seemed absurd. The Siren wasn’t just a _part_ of Stiles, it _was_ Stiles. It was embedded in his being the same way that the wolf was in Derek.

And because it wasn’t bad enough to have to hurry his way back home, he also happened to land back in the states on a new moon. Werewolves only lost their powers completely during eclipses, but new moons left him feeling tired, like his body was heavier than it needed to be. It was something that affected born wolves more than bitten, who had memories of what it felt like to be human, to not have the supernatural strength they did. 

To a bitten wolf, a new moon felt like a glimpse at what being human had been like, but for a born wolf, it could be unbearable.

Derek didn’t have time to be slowed by the phase of the moon. His SUV was still parked in the long-term parking garage at the Sacramento airport, so after almost forty hours of traveling from Athens, he climbed into it and made a bee-line for Beacon Hills. 

When Lydia had explained the ritual, a nervous shiver had slipped down Derek’s spine, and he’d flipped through his handwritten notes to find the conversation he’d had with Nefeli. Druids and sirens did not mix well, and the results of their attempts to work together were usually disastrous. Druids lacked any real kind of protections against sirens, and as such, saw the entire species as a threat to their precious balance. 

The idea that Deaton, of all people, had found the ritual that was supposed to somehow ‘safely’ seal away Stiles’ siren power was a terrifying thought. Even if the ritual was meant in good faith, there were too many ways for it to go wrong for them to take the chance. 

Passing the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign at nearly 9pm, Derek dialed Lydia while stifling a yawn. Flying on planes was hard enough on a werewolf, trying to sleep while on planes was almost impossible, and combined with the new moon, Derek was in rough shape. 

“Oh thank god!” Lydia answered. “Stiles won’t listen to any of us, maybe he’ll listen to you.” 

Derek frowned, “Do you know where he is?”

“No, none of us do. We’re meeting at Scott’s to talk about it. Scott just texted me to come over, I was walking out to my car when you called.” 

“I’ll meet you at Scott’s then.”

“Okay.” Lydia hesitated for the moment. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Derek smiled to himself, “I’m glad to be back. I just wish it was under better circumstances.” 

The drive to the McCall’s house was fairly easy, weaving through the residential neighborhoods of Beacon Hills that had seemed like another world to Derek as a child. All he’d ever known was the big house in the preserve, with plenty of room to run and all of his family around. His friends from school had lived in these neighborhoods, but he’d so rarely been allowed to visit that they often seemed like another town altogether.

Derek headed into the McCall’s house, joining Scott, Malia, Theo and Lydia in the kitchen. Scott clapped him on the shoulder with a broad grin, Malia ducked in to kiss his cheek and Lydia gave him a small, private smile from across the table, a blush rising onto the apples of her cheeks.

“I guess you didn’t get eaten after all.” Theo remarked with a short-lived smirk. Derek’s anxiety grew as the former-chimera’s face settled back into an unmistakable look of worry. 

If _Theo_ was worried...

“What were you saying about last night, Theo?” Scott asked, dragging Derek out of his thoughts, “After the pack meeting?” 

“I tried to talk to him about the ritual, to explain what Lydia had said, but he just shut me down, with his thrall.” Theo shrugged, “And he said that he hadn’t decided if he was doing it or not, but he was lying.” 

“His phone has been off, and he dodged me when I tried to bring it up at school today too.” Scott said, both hands on the table. “He just kept saying that it was his decision.” 

“ _You're_ the one who told him it was his decision.” Malia said, “Like, you were pretty clear on that. How much of Stiles’ life lately has actually been his decision?”

“But he doesn’t have all the information!” Scott snapped at her. At a quirk of her eyebrows, he mumbled an apology, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands. 

Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “When was the last time anyone was alone with Stiles?” 

“Probably you, right?” Scott answered, looking at Theo. “Did you ride to school together?” 

“No, not for the last few days. I saw him getting into the jeep after school though, so, six hours ago? He hasn’t been home.” Theo added, flicking a glance idly at his phone screen, “And his phone is still off. The Sheriff hasn’t heard from him either.”

Derek pulled out his own phone and dialed Stiles’ number, pressing it to his ear and holding up a finger to the others. It went straight to voicemail. Derek hung up and set his phone on the table. 

“Has anyone tried to get a hold of Deaton?”

“Also not answering.” Scott said, hands clenched into fists. 

Derek let out an annoyed growl. “It’s a new moon today, and phases of the moon are important supernatural events. If Stiles did agree to do the ritual, tonight would be a good night to perform it.”  
  
Derek, and the other three shifters in the room, caught the sudden scent of Lydia’s guilt and anxiety as she collapsed into a chair, both of her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. 

“This is all my fault.” She said, her voice quiet. “I just… I never should have gone to Deaton. I should have just waited for Derek.”

“I’ll take the blame for that too, Lydia.” Derek said softly, “I should have realized you might have gotten frustrated when I didn’t reply. It doesn’t matter now. We need to find Stiles and Deaton tonight, before the ritual is completed.”

“Isn’t there a chance it could work?” Malia asked, “Like, I know everyone’s worried about the bad outcomes, but what if it actually worked and Stiles was just…you know, back to normal?” 

“What if Stiles doesn’t want to be back to normal?” Theo countered, “What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s what we want, what _you guys_ want? What if Deaton isn’t even doing the ritual he said he was, and he’s actually doing some other kind of ritual that’s just going to kill him?” His questions came quick, one right after another, the anger growing in his voice. 

“We just wanted what was best for him!” Lydia said, her voice cracking.

“Do you want what’s best for him, or what’s most convenient for you?” Theo rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “You don’t even get it. All he’s wanted since this started was your acceptance, Lydia. All he wanted was to feel normal, for his _friends_ to treat him like they used to. Scott and Malia at least make a fucking effort, but he’s not stupid. He sees the hesitation, the worry in all of your eyes. Lydia barely spoke to him for _three goddamn months_ and Derek just ran off to fucking Europe rather than face him.” 

“Derek left to help Stiles.” Lydia’s voice was soft and sad, lacking its usual bite.

“Yeah, well, then what’s your excuse, Lydia?” Theo’s gaze snapped to hers, and Derek could smell the anger on him.

Lydia pressed a hand over her mouth, ashamed with tears welling in her eyes as she looked away from Theo. Everyone else fell into an uncomfortable silence as they thought about Theo’s arguments. Theo had spent the most time with Stiles, which meant he was probably right, so Derek bit back his frustration for the time being. He opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to it.

“We’ve all made mistakes. I don’t think any of us actually _asked_ Stiles what he wanted. We just assumed he didn’t want to be a siren.” Scott’s voice was laced with sadness, “Theo is probably right, we’ve all been treating Stiles differently and he was bound to notice. We can make up for that _later_. Right now, we need to focus on finding him before it’s too late.”

The reactions to that statement differed dramatically around the table, but Derek didn’t miss the scent of Theo’s carefully masked sadness. 

\--

Fear and anxiety only grew as time ticked by. Scott effectively called in the cavalry. He sent Mason and Corey to check the in-town locations including the high school, hospital, and Sheriff’s Station. Peter and Chris were sent to check the tunnels that ran beneath the town and out towards the preserve. The werewolves, along with Malia and Lydia all paired off, searching the woods beneath the dark, moonless sky looking for any sign of Stiles or Deaton.

Theo, who had been paired with Scott, had barely spoken since they arrived. Part of him wished he hadn’t said anything at the house, that none of them deserved to know how badly they’d fucked up. Another part of him, buried deep, was angry at Stiles because despite everything his friends, his _pack_ had done, he still forgave them, he was still willing to do a ritual he knew nothing about for the _chance_ to go back to normal.

Theo ached to fully shift, to fall into the headspace of the wolf. When he was in that form, everything was different. Human emotions were muted, blunted, except for the simple basic emotions like anger, disgust, fear, happiness, sadness and surprise that humans shared with animals. 

Even that form couldn’t protect him from the grief, but it might have allowed him to focus more clearly on the task at hand rather than running through ‘what-if’s’ and ‘what-could-have-been’s’ like his brain was doing now. 

Living with the Dread Doctors during the bulk of his formative years had taught Theo one important lesson: everyone wants something. The key to understanding people, to getting inside their head, was understanding their desires. 

What did Stiles want? 

Stiles wanted his friends back. He wanted to be loved and adored like he had been before. He wanted to feel like an asset again, rather than a burden. 

What did Deaton want?

Deaton had made it perfectly clear that he feared the power that sirens had over others. 

As a druid, his main drives in life were to maintain the balance, so when faced with a force like Stiles who was irresistible, unstoppable, and morally grey, his instinct would be to destroy it. However, Stiles was more powerful than Deaton could ever hope to be, so if Deaton was going to make whatever convoluted ritual he’d found work, then he’d need both the celestial event of the new moon and a place of power. And just like that, the answer seemed obvious to Theo. 

“I know where they are.” Theo said suddenly, turning to Scott, whose red eyes flicked to him nervously. “Tell everyone to meet us at the Nemeton, if they can find it.” Theo said quickly before he took off at a run.

“How do you even know where the Nemeton is?” Scott grumbled as he shot off the text and used a burst of speed to catch up. 

The memory of the Nemeton's location was hazy, a memory he’d seen in Lydia’s mind months ago to find the bodies of his sorry excuse for a pack. Still in recent months, Theo had run every inch of this preserve to blow off steam, so once he was able to pinpoint a familiar landmark, the path to the giant tree stump wasn’t too difficult to locate. 

Once they got close, Theo could smell Stiles, cloves, sweet sea-salted caramel, anxiety, and the powerful unmistakable scent of magic.

The clearing that housed the Nemeton was bathed in yellow tinged light from a pair of camp lanterns that were placed at opposite ends of the massive stump, leaving the clearing illuminated just enough for human eyes. Stiles was sitting toward the center of the Nemeton with his knees tucked into his chest, surrounded by a small circle of rock salt. A few feet away, Deaton knelt, the book from the other day in front of him, and a small bowl of ingredients in his hands. 

The wolves were silent on their approach, but once the lanterns gave away their shadows, both Deaton and Stiles looked up, Deaton looked furious and Stiles resigned. 

“I thought this was my choice, Scott?” Stiles spoke out, sounding exhausted. “I thought you said you were going to support me.”

“You could die.” Scott said quickly. “Derek and Lydia will be here in a minute to explain it better, but this ritual is dangerous,” Theo saw fury in the Alpha’s eyes as he flicked his gaze to Deaton, “ _Please_ listen to us, Stiles. Please just listen because if you go through with this, you might not get another chance.” Scott stepped forward, and Theo heard the hitch in his breath. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I just assumed you didn’t want this, but I never asked you what _you_ wanted.” 

“Stiles, if we’re going to do this-”

“Shut it.” Theo cut Deaton off, eyes glowing electric blue in the low light, “You don’t get to talk until everyone has gotten to say their piece. Everyone else might believe that you didn’t know about all the risks, but I think you did.”

“When did Derek get back? What risks are you even talking about?” Stiles looked at Theo for a moment and then at Scott. “Is this what Lydia and Theo and everyone has been trying to talk to me about for the last couple days?”

“Yes.” Scott replied, “You didn’t tell any of us that you had made a decision - at least not intentionally, so we didn’t realize until you disappeared today that we were out of time to make sure you knew what you were actually getting yourself into.” 

“How did you even….” Stiles turned back to Theo. “You’re the only one I even hinted to, did you listen to my heartbeat?” 

Theo nodded. “And I’m not sorry I did.” 

Scott and Theo turned at the sound of cracking branches that indicated someone’s approach. A few beats later, Lydia stepped into the clearing, a bit breathless with Derek at her side. Her eyes welled with tears as they fell on Stiles. Stiles’ gaze flicked to her briefly before landing on Derek. 

“Stiles, the moon will only be at this point for so long.” Deaton said quickly, ignoring a snarl from Theo. “We’re going to miss our window to complete the ritual.”

“Oh for the love of Christ.” Theo glanced briefly at Scott before launching himself across the clearing, landing in a squat behind Deaton, one hand wrapped around the Druid’s throat, threatening claws pricking at the skin of his neck. “Normally you never want to say anything useful, but now you won’t shut up. Talk again before you’re asked to, I dare you.” 

\--

Lydia was still catching her breath when Theo grabbed Deaton, and she was more surprised at Scott’s lack of a reaction than she was at Theo’s theatrics. Scott simply stared at the former-chimera for a long moment before nodding his approval at the action, leaving Deaton stunned and slightly scared. 

Derek had met Stiles’ gaze, “Please don’t do this.” 

“Nice to see you too. How have you been? How was your vacation?” Sarcasm dripped thickly from Stiles’ voice. “Did you come back just for this? I didn’t realize I was so important to you.” 

Derek was unmoved. “Be pissed at me as long as you want; take whatever cheap shots you need to about how much I care, even when you _damn well_ know how much you mean to me. But do not do this ritual.” 

“Why not?” Stiles spat.

“I met a siren. Her name was Nefeli. She’s three hundred and twenty seven years old.” Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “She has a brother and a sister, both also sirens. They live on a small barrier island off the coast of Greece. I transcribed ten days worth of stories for you, they’re in a notebook in my car. Deaton isn’t the first druid to try and silence a siren.” Lydia watched Deaton’s eyes narrow at Derek as he spoke, “Rituals like this never work. The Sirens lose their minds, and that’s if they even _survive_ it.”

“Just because it hasn’t before, doesn’t mean it can’t work.” Stiles whispered.

“It’s not worth the risk.” Lydia stepped closer, eyeing the rock-salt line between them warily. “I’m so sorry Stiles.” She felt hot lines of tears rolling down her cheeks, “When we found out I was a banshee, you were by my side the entire time. You encouraged me to use my powers even when we didn’t understand them. You were _there_ , you never judged and I will never be able to explain how much that meant to me.” Lydia paused, dragging in a long breath before continuing.

“When we found out you were a siren, I was so caught up in my own feelings that I didn’t stop to consider yours. Yes, I was afraid, but I also know you; I know who you are, how you operate. I was so frustrated and confused about what I was experiencing that I didn’t even try to think about what you must be going through. I was a terrible friend and you have every right _not_ to forgive me for that, but _please_ do not do this ritual.”

“Lydia…” Stiles sighed, his chest heaving. “If we don’t do the ritual nothing is going to change, you... you’re the smartest person I know, you have to get that.” 

“I don’t care.” She said quickly, “It doesn’t matter; I’d rather have you as a siren than lose you completely.” Lydia felt Derek’s comforting hand at her back, and she leaned into it.  
  
“I agree.” He said softly. “You’ve saved my life enough times; I think I owe you this one.” 

Stiles cracked a half-smile, tears in his eyes. He turned to Scott. “What about you?”

“Whatever _you want_ Stiles.” Scott answered. He turned to Deaton. “Did you know the ritual could go wrong?” 

Deaton hesitated a moment before he answered, “No.” 

“Lie.” Theo and Derek said in unison. 

Scott looked heartbroken, shaking his head. His fists clenched briefly. “You said that Stiles was the dangerous one, but you were willing to risk _killing_ my best friend.”  
  
“It was for the greater good, Scott. As he is, Stiles will only get stronger. If left unprohibited, he could end up controlling the entire town with just his mind.” 

“And you could kill the entire town with a spell gone wrong.” Theo scoffed, as he threw Deaton aside before walking back to the Nemeton, and leaned down to swipe a hand through the salt line, breaking it and freeing Stiles. 

Scott just shook his head and waved him off, letting the Druid go despite the unease from everyone. Deaton stood quickly, collecting his book and materials then grabbed one of the lanterns and left without any further interaction. Lydia breathed easier once he was gone; even if the ritual did require consent, she didn’t trust him not to find a way to hurt Stiles anyway.

Lydia watched the decision of who to go to warring in Stiles’ mind, but finally, he turned to step close to Theo, whose smirk faded to actual surprise as Stiles brought their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles whispered, his face close to Theo’s. The clearing was silent, the sound carried easily. “You tried to tell me.”

“It’s okay. Nobody ever listens to me, I’m just a lying murderer, remember.” Theo winked at Stiles, leaning his forehead against the Siren’s. 

Stiles chuckled and kissed him softly again before stepping away, turning to face Scott, Derek, and her, the smile fading, leaving a nervous frown in its place. 

“The truth is, I kind of like being a siren.” He admitted quietly. “I like that I can read people’s emotions, that I’m not just some defenseless human anymore. I like that I feel powerful, and I like feeling wanted.” He licked his lips, “But I would have given that all up if it meant I got the three of you, and Malia back. I want... to be normal again, or you know, whatever _normal_ is for us.”

Lydia didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t dare let herself, holding fast to the reminder that she _knew_ Stiles. He was the person who had been there for her, who had always done everything he could to keep her safe. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest, choking on a sob as she did. 

Slowly, Stiles’ arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she felt him rest his cheek against the top of her head. “I missed you so much, Lydia.” 

If he was using thrall, it wasn’t doing anything that she didn’t already want to be doing. Lydia held onto Stiles for dear life, as she was faced with the fact that they could have lost him. 

“I’m going to do better, Stiles.” She whispered. “We all are.”

“Except me.” Theo called from behind them, “I’ve already been on my best behavior.” 

“And he’s going to keep being on his best behavior.” Stiles said, but Lydia could hear the fondness in his tone. “Or else.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND its done!! (for now).
> 
> Greater Evils, the third part of the saga is in the works, but there will probably be a bit of a wait. As we did with EHAN and TLE, we want the whole fic to be completely written before we start posting it. Currently, the aim is around 5 chapters and an epilogue, of which two are written. We have a rough goal of getting it all done and posted by Steo Day on June 29th. Bear with us!
> 
> tiniestawoo: I can only speak for myself, but the process of writing this fic was a rollercoaster. It's the first time I've ever worked with someone else to write something like this, and without Meri/impractical_matters, this fic would never have happened! 
> 
> impractical_matters: I'm really glad I got to work with CJ/tiniestawoo and I am really proud of everything we accomplished together, especially for us both being first-time collaborators! I also encourage any of you who are interested to check out the [Steo Day Event](https://steoevents.tumblr.com/post/619344436595490816/steoevents-steo-day-with-the-end-of-may) as well as [Void Month/Nogitjune](https://writingsbychlo.tumblr.com/post/619539795618709504/writingsbychlo-nogitjune-also-known-as-void) that just started today! 
> 
> Thank you again everyone for your kudos and reviews, we really appreciate it! 
> 
> As always, come chat with us on tumblr:  
> [tiniestawoo](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/)  
> [impractical_matters](https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com)


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